Beautifully cursed (beautifully yours series)
by shwetadokwal90
Summary: Bill Weasley and fleur Delacour fanfiction. A journey taken to be beautifully each other's. The first of the beautifully yours Weasley clan romance series. Hope you all enjoy my version of their story as I've added few imaginary things but tried to stick close to its roots. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

The Great hall is filled with the usual clatter of breakfast. Sitting here, and eating, still felt awkward to me. I was used to Beauxbatons' refined version for meals and table etiquettes, even during regular breakfasts. So I still couldn't wrap my head - and fingers - around just one set of fork, knife and spoon for the whole meal.

Beside me, Roger was going on in full swing about how beautiful I looked even after being attacked and scratched by grindylows in the second task. Like that was the only thing that mattered as the result of my failure in that task. Not the fact that I couldn't reach Gabrielle when my little sister - my most precious treasure - was tied to a statue underwater and was supposed to be rescued by me in time, only for me to be taken down by a bunch of lake creatures. Like "how shiny my hair glowed because of black lake water" was more important than saving your little sister and scraping through the challenge, hoping that by force of willpower and some dumb luck, I will not disappoint Madame Maxime and my parents by not winning the tri-wizard cup. Because, frankly, against an international - almost worshipped - quidditch seeker, an ace wizard at the age of 17 and the boy who lived, my chances of winning are as slim as my fingers; which was now the center of Roger's admiration. "Your elegantly petite fingers makes these cutlery look so beautiful and... Use worthy!", he exclaimed, pleased with himself, like he has just found a word worthy of being included in Ancient Wizard Word Spells and Dictionary.

"Zat ees very sweet of you to say, Roger", I replied, in my most practised tone to placate an admirer, but my heavy accent tells me that my mind is still otherwise occupied, even after making sure to have a good beauty sleep - my mom's answer to stress. Giving up on the hope of getting distracted by Roger's flattery, I let my attention drift to tonight's event, effectively tuning out another string of complements on my "long silvery gold mane of hairs like a dreamy, golden unicorn".

The final task of tri-wizard tournament. Just the thought makes my stomach dip and my hands sweaty. I cannot remember being this nervous ever in my life, or for my life. I just knew that I would tolerate any amount of disappointed words from Madame Maxime and my parents if I somehow managed to get out of this tournament, alive and intact. But after facing a dragon - albeit human friendly - and being taken magnificently down by lake grindylows, this was looking to be a big, unattainable goal to be achieved.

Goals. At 17, not many expected a girl like me to have any concrete goals. They assumed me to be as much of a fairy princess as I looked, waiting for a knight in shining armour to ride from moors and save me from the big bad world and ride with me into sunset with onlookers waving and sniffling. The analogy turned my stomach. But what had my heart stuttering was the fact that I might not be able to prove them wrong if I didn't survive tonight. The world would think of me as a delicate princess unwittingly volunteering for a dangerous game, only to die, as prince charmings were not allowed in such tournaments. I squeezed my eyes shut to banish that thought.

Only to have Roger complement my pretty frown looking like a crinkle in silk. Urgh.

And sitting there, in that moment, I vowed that if I come out of this tournament alive, I would show the world that I was not just a pretty face to be oogled and complemented. I would, somehow, make my life have a meaning, a cause. I would make sure people like and respect me for anything except my beauty.

My internal musing and Roger's external sputtering is suddenly interrupted by the professor in green robes, glasses and a permanent stern expression, it seems. Professor McGonagall, I believe her name is. "Ms. Delacour, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," she said in a clear voice that reflected the patience of a professor well used to dealing with teenagers. Her words, however, sent a bolt of anxiety through me, making my accent heavier. "Ees zat sometheeng to do with ze tazk tonight, Madame?"

"Oh no, Ms. Delacour. As you know, the task will be informed to you mere minutes before it starts. However, the champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them", she replied before drifting towards Gryffindor tables.

The words made my nerves jump up a few notches. My parents are here! The thought made me jittery with both excitement and nerves. Unable to eat anymore breakfast, I get up from the table, ignoring Roger stand up with me, when I see Cedric walking towards door located just off the Great Hall. I cross the room and join him to the back chamber. The chamber was big enough to hold at least 50 families. As soon as we enter, Cedric is nearly tackled to the floor by what seemed like a much older version of himself in yellow robes, an older pretty woman following him with a laugh. Cedric's parents. In another corner of the room, I spot another couple with dark hairs and judging by the man's hooked nose, these were Krum's parents. Released from bear hug, Cedric sends a polite smile and nod to people standing in the far end of the chamber and poked his head out to inform Harry that his family is waiting for him. Curious to see Harry's family - since I knew he is an orphan- I turn, but was interrupted by Gabrielle's sweet voice calling my name.

I rush towards my family. Gabrielle stood there, holding my mother's hand. As I reach them, my mother wraps her arms around me delicately for a second, before releasing me and giving my cheeks sophisticated air kisses. Gabrielle hugs me more enthusiastically and I plant a smacking kiss on her cheeks, then turn to my mother. "Hello Maman, Dad busy again?"

"I am afraid yes, papillon ," my mother replied in a musical voice. "Tell me cher , 'ow close ees your chances to winning eet?", she asked in her usual to-the-point style. Right then I hear door open and in walks Harry. I wave at him warmly, still indebt to him for saving Gabrielle. And to avoid answering her question, I launch into the tale of heroic Harry saving Gabrielle in full fledged French, which is bound to distract my mother.

As I recount the second task to her, I notice the subject of the tale smiling broadly and walking up to the people at the far corner of the room.

There stands, a plump older woman with bushy red hairs, her face showing her years of experience, but still radiant with internal warmth, and a boy.

It is apparant that neither boy nor the woman is related to Harry by any stretch of imagination, but the warmth on Harry's face said it didn't matter at all. The boy has his back to me, but even then I can tell he is rather good looking with flaming red hair long enough to reach his neck and tall with broad muscular shoulders. Suddenly, he turned his head in my direction, seeming to check out the portraits of the wall around us, and my breath catches in my throat. He really is as beautiful as anyone would imagine a prince charming to be. Bright, happy faced with set of wide, sparkling blue eyes he was epitome of a knight in rock star outfit. But the fang that adorned one of his ear lobe and dragon hide boots gave him a bad boy demeanor. It was such a rare combination that I could do nothing but eye him for a long time from across the room. He didn't seem to notice me, his attention on his mother, eyeing her with curious amazement though laughter lurked in depths of his eyes.

Suddenly, his eyes snagged mine as he passed by me towards the chamber door following his mother and Harry. Even though it lasted for a couple of seconds, I saw a flash of curious admiration in his eyes. It was a familiar look from boys for me. And I knew that it was only because of the pretty face given to me by my ancestors, but something about his look gave me a flip in the stomach, like it was the first time anyone was truly looking at me. Then the moment is over and he went out of the door closing it behind him, leaving me standing there staring at the closed door.

it was then that I knew that I need to survive the tournament tonight. Because my gut told me that this is not the last time I will be seeing those sparkling blue eyes. And when I saw them the next time, I will do whatever it takes to make them sparkle with same admiration it did just then, only for a reason other than my beauty.


	2. New beginnings

The stench of freshly turned soil and plants around me turned my stomach as I made my way to yet another turn of the maze. The utter darkness surrounding me felt like a physical weight on my lungs, preventing me from drawing another breath. I have been wandering, for what felt like days, in this seemingly endless abyss. Surely someone will come looking for me in some time? But even hoping felt foolish at the moment, my insides screaming at me that I will never be the same fleur that entered this maze.

Finally, after yet another turn, the maze opened up to a small clearing. With a sigh of relief, I gave a silent prayer of thanks to my stars. Finally I was at the center of the maze. Finally this will be over, regardless of whether I won or not. But as I stepped closer, instead of looking at the tri-wizard cup, my eyes took in a cloaked shadow figure that stood in the middle of the clearing.

Before him, stood two other people, one of them short with bony structure and glasses, the other one taller, thicker and more muscular standing in a slouched posture. Harry and Krum. They stood facing each other; not noticing me; not moving at all. I can see the cloaked figure in the space between them as he suddenly raised his hand and pointed a wand straight at me. "Avada kedavra", the figure screamed and a jet of bright green light traveled in slowly towards me. I try to scream but no sound comes out of my mouth. My feet refuse to cooperate too as I try to move out of the way. Feeling beyond helpless I glance at my feet, willing them to move when I notice that there is a boy lying at my feet on his stomach. Immediately I duct down, another scream building in my throat, as I grab his shoulders and turn his face upwards. All air leaves my lungs as I immediately recognise the boy. Cedric Diggory. His eyes were open, staring unseeingly, lifelessly up at me.

Dead.

My eyes snap open as I come back to a brightly lit room, the sunrays only obscured by pale pink curtains, as the stench of soil and plants still seeming to linger around me. It takes a few minutes and wrinkly, concerned face of a house elf to finally make me sit up in my feather bed. Trudy places the tray with elegant tea cup down on a nearby vanity table and hobbles her way towards my bed. "Iz my miss OK feeling?" She asked, in her slightly wavery voice. "Do Trudy call mistress, Miss?", she further inquires as she reaches my bed and place her wrinkly hand on the side of bed, as if to pull herself up. Calling my mother would only mean more fuss around my room, and after the graduation ceremony at Beauxbatons academy of Magic two nights ago and travelling back home from Pyrenees to Paris in an almost whole day's journey in the flying carriage, the last thing I needed was my mother's over enthusiasm in her elder daughter graduating. So in, what I hope, a calm voice, I reply, "non non Trudy, I 'ave asked my family to meet me at breakfast table. I do not want to disturb zhere daily 'abits becauze of me. And oui, tea zis morning weeell be lovely." Trudy, being a loyal elf, quietly hands me my tea before hobbling out of my room.

Even though I have lived in this house all my life, it feels weird to get up in this room which has been decorated like a fairy princess' room,complete with a set of sparkly pink wings above the headboard of my pale pink feather bed. Strangely, it used to feel comforting to get up in my childhood room and so I had insisted to leave it as it always has been.

Many things feel odd and weird since the last few months, I think with a big sigh. Climbing out of bed and finishing my tea, I head to wash off the grim of my nightmare.

I am the first to reach breakfast table. Usually, its Gabrielle who is first to be present here, but it seems all of my family is having a slow start this morning. Or rather, I am having an early one. I shift in my seat impatiently, waiting for my family to grace me with their presence. There is a strange bubble of nervous excitement in me as I think about the conversation I am about to have with my family but I tamp it down. I cannot loose nerves in front of them or they will never let me do what I plan to do with my future. I know I have to convince them that this is what I really want and is not a decision taken under trauma or emotions. Finally, my family of 3 starts to trickle in the dining room. First is Gabrielle, who gives me a tight hug and a smacking kiss on the cheek and starts off a mile a minute, asking me about beuxbatons, graduation, Madame Maxime and so on. She is supposed to start her school this year, and she seems to be on a mission to know every single thing about the school before she set foot on the grounds. As she starts to ask another question, my father enters, thankfully halting her questions. "Papá! Bonjour. Eet ees so good to see you!" I say, bouncing up from my seat and hugging him fiercely and making him laugh in delight. "Bonjour Fleur! You look very good my child. I am so 'appy to finally 'ave you 'ome". My father is a tall, very jolly looking man with round cheeks, brown hair and dark eyes courtesy of his british heritage; my mother, equally opposite of his English attributes having silvery blond hair, big deep blue eyes and tall willowy figure completing her French Belle looks with an extra touch of charm and a silvery glow emitting from her as a heritage from her full veela mother. As a child, we were insisted to speak in English at home as my father did not want to loose his british mother's connections, and wanted his girls to know difference between tale and tail. But living in france and having a French Nana, grandpá and mother made it almost impossible to learn my father's british heritage.

Years ago, he was said to be visiting his grandma and grandpa for the summer when he encountered a half veela, my mother, living in his grandparents' neighborhood. By the end of that summer, my father and mother were inseparable. My british grandma was said to be the most offended party from my mother's half veela status, but my mother once states that, "eet was a battle worth fighting for. And a victorie too, as I got your papa and your grandma's approval". Apparently, my grandma was under the impression that my father fell in love with my mother because of her beauty and veela charms. But anyone looking at them, even after all these years, could tell that there was no cupid arrow sticking or veela magic involved; as after all these years, they still seem to glow around each other. I briefly wonder, what it must be like for my mother to know with surity that my father loved her for who she is and not for her beauty.

A sudden image of sparkling blue eyes flashed through my mind, but I dismissed it as soon as the image entered. Must stay focused, fleur! I chanted it in my mind.

This was during those times when Voldemort was at the peak of his powers, the whole Britain scattered with fear and impending war. After my parents' marriage that same year at Christmas in Britain, and my mother getting impregnated with me, all of my grandparents thought it will be safer for us to live in France. It was more than 3 years after that, that voldemort was stopped, but till then we were perfectly settled in France and my parents saw no need to return to Great Britain. Still, we tried to speak in English at home, just to please my father.

As if on que, my mother entered breakfast room, mere minutes after my father and gave me a tight hug and her trademark sophisticated air kiss. "Fleur! mon enfant. I cannot beeleavee you are finally 'ere!" Holding me at arm's length, she scanned my face with a delighted smile on her face and proudly stated, "mon fille ees graduated! Can you beeleeeavee zheez Monsieur Delacour?" She always called my father Monsieur Delacour instead of his name Adam, like calling him with a respect given to a stranger, but the smile she directs at him tells otherwise, like she is enjoying some private joke every time she calls him out. "Non Apolline, I cannot! When deed she grow up from our leetle girl to a young woman?"he reply with a melancholy sign. I shift under their loving gaze, knowing what I am about to ask will not please them, but also knowing that the path I have chosen starts right from this day.

It is after everyone has tucked delicious breakfast in and Trudy has hobbled off to look after the dishes in kitchen, that I broach the subject. "Maman, papa zere eez someteeng I wanted to talk to you about", I start; attracting both their attention. I clear my throat, a nervous habit, and recall all of my speeches, arguments and counter arguments that I have prepared through these past few months. I cannot stumble now, I say to myself. If I don't sound sure about this, then they will never let me do this. "oui, mon cher?" My mother inquires in a soft voice. Steeling myself, I blurt it out in a single breath. "I weesh to go to Great Britain and work at a wizarding banque while working on my eenglish". I release the breath I didn't knew I was holding while blurting this and look at my family. My parents seems to have frozen at the place, their expressions blank, while Gabrielle has got both her eyebrows raised in a stunned surprise, no doubt at the audacity of my words. Seeming to be the first to recover, my dad ask me in a soft, confused voice, "You what, papillon?" Ignoring the childhood nickname that makes me want to murder every butterfly nearby for some reason, I continue in a calm voice. "Oui papa, maman; as vous said, I 'ave graduated from 'igh school theez annèe and I 'ave decided to go to Great Britain. I talked to Madame Maxime about zees and through 'er contacts at banque in London, she 'as obtenir a part-time job for me at Gringotts Wizards Banque". As the words finally registered, my mother, as expected, turns red, as if ready to blow up any second. Which she does.

"LONDON! Are you out of your 'ead fleur! Where 'as zis non sense been coming in your 'eah? Eez zees becauze of your leettle voyage in Britain zis annèe? Or what 'appened zere? Do you realize 'ow far London ees from Paris? And what about your le abri? Or do you plan to sleep on London street?" As she stops to come up for air and my father strokes her hand while eyeing me with concern, I realized that this is my only chance to convince them. I know that if my mother started again, she will say a straight forward no without any arguments and my father knows better than to pressurize his wife when she slips into part bad french - part bad English mode. I always suspected that my father feared that my mother, if pushed too far, will turn into the angry swan bird with pointed beak, throwing fire everywhere with her bare hands, even though it is impossible with her part human self from her father.

Taking a deep breath I start, "Maman, papa; I know you are both worried about my decision. I also know zat you need better assurance about my plan and safety, considering current environnement in London. But do trust me, zat I can take care of moi-même zere. In fact, ze environnement zere ees one of ze reasons I want to go zere." Seeing as my mother open her mouth to interrupt, I hurriedly continue. "All my life, I 'ave been seen as delicate papillon; beautiful and weak enough to admire from afar, to 'old and 'andle weeth immense care. It 'as always been just assumed zat I weel be marié to a prince charming and every garçon around 'as always tried to be one, be eet because of my beauty or my quarter veela 'eritage. But for once een my life, I want to do sometheeng zat actually counts, 'as some value een a bigger picture. I want to make a difference some 'ow! I am tired of people juzt agreeing to me because zey are too dazzeled to theenk and say non around me. Zeese ees one of thee reasons why I asked Madame Maxime to appeal for me at a wizard banque. I am quite sure zat a goblin would not care eef I am beautiful or not. 'E weell value me on my brain and capacité. And I also 'ope zat staying close to ze problem weel 'elp me do sometheeng to solve eet."

I pause for a breath, and thankfully nobody tries to interrupt me this time as I confide a weak part of myself with my family in a quiet voice. "I steeel 'ave thoze rêves. Thoze cauchemar; nightmares actually, as rêves are supposed to be good, oui? I feel zat ze only way to get rid of zees dreams ees to face eet upfront. Eef I cower now, I weel never sleep peacefully again. I need to go to london papa, maman where I weel work as well as eemprove my eenglish at Gringotts wizard banque and leeeve at an appartement nearby ze banque at a place named Diagonal Ally. And I promise to care for myself well and write regularly to you, but pleeease let me go. S'il vous plaît. I 'ave selected my path, let me walk on eet. je prier vous. I reeally reeally request you."

I stop as my voice breaks on the last word, not wanting to cry and mess this up.

The whole room is silent for a full minute, before my father speaks, "Are you really sure about zis fleur? You really want to do zis for yourself and not from any misplaced sense of responsibility to your late friend about 'elping to avenge 'im or bringing 'im justice?" Looking him straight in the eye, I shake my head and say I am as sure of my decisions and reasons as they come, in French. After studying me for another excruciating minute, my father finally nods and says, "eef you really are sure, zen bien. You can go, as long as you fulfill all your promises to us about keeping us informed and being safe". I cannot believe it for a minute. This is new! How did that happen? Did he just agree? I was speechless. Though, my mother wasn't.

Listening to this, her head snapped towards my father and she went off in French, non stop about how it is a crazy thing to agree to and inquiring what is wrong with my father to agree to this. This, i expected. Feeling my equilibrium return at the normalcy of my mother's protests, I hear my father reply in a calm tone and English language saying, "Apolline, I know what you say ees right. I am worried too. But we 'ave to trust our fille. And we 'ave to let 'er live 'er life ze way she wants eet. I would also want to 'ave our fille leeve at 'ome and be safe, but we cannot coddle 'er all life long. We 'ave to drop ze bird from 'er nest for 'er to learn to fly, to know zat our little papillon can take care of 'erself after we are gone; as we weell be one day. Let 'er go, mon amour." I waited, holding my breath, as my parents stared in each other's eyes, as if having a silent conversation.

Finally, my mother sighed, and said in an almost petulant tone, "bien. But eef you don't write to us een every 2 days, zen I am personally coming to London to drag you back 'ome, young lady. Comprendre?" I felt as if a fireworks of joy erupted in my chest as I sprang from my chair and hugged both my parents over the table sitting across from me and beside each other. "Oh merci, merci, merci dad and Maman!" I babble as a trickle of tear runs down my cheek.

Gabrielle, never one to miss a family hug from across the table, jumped from her seat beside me and threw her short hands around my parents from their back, her arms barely reaching me. In those moments of physically uncomfortable but loving embrace of my family, I knew that the journey I have chosen for myself might not be stars and flowers and unicorns; but I will do my best, be my best; or die trying, to make people in my arms at the moment, happy and proud and never regret their decision to let me fly.


	3. A cold welcome

The bleak weather of London reminded me of the goodbye I have had to endure this morning at home, as I gaze out of the window. It's dainty sprinkles and depressing cloudiness remind me of Gabrielle's teary goodbye as she had hugged me farewell, along with a suppressed downpour of mother's constant barks of commands in a choked voice as she tried to keep her tears at bay by displaying haughtiness and anger. The only smile bestowed upon me was by my father as he had hugged me tightly and patted my back with his well wishes for the journey. The light drizzle has started from heavy black clouds, with a promise of a downpour any minute. I already miss the cheery and sunny weather of France, but it is the last thing on my mind as I stepped out of the black muggle transportation in front of a plain, black door of the place called leaky cauldron. Even with the distance between London and France, my journey should not have taken a couple of minutes as I had planned to apparate from my home to London's leaky cauldron, but a letter from Madame Maxime that had arrived just this morning said in explicit details to use as much muggle ways to reach my destination as possible once I step foot in Britain. My Father, having left Britain years ago, remembered the only station in London called King's cross station where I apparated and took black muggle vehicle to reach this pub which, according to the letter, will take me to Diagon Alley. It was because of this detour that I was late, as I had planned to reach Gringotts wizarding bank at 10 am in the morning, but instead reached almost 2 hours late. As I gaze at the innocent looking door of the shabby pub, I realize that it was no wonder that the muggle vehicle driver did not recognize the name "leaky cauldron" even with my vigorous attempts to clear my english enough to give him the name. The place was a small, grubby pub that stood between a big book store and a record store. It was so inconspicuous and ordinary that the muggles passing around me did not even spare a glance at it, their gaze skipping right over the black door like it didn't even exist. And maybe it didn't, to them. Giving the muggle driver a few paper bills - which barely distracted him from staring at me with dazed eyes - I set off towards the door, while excitement make my stomach hurt. This is what I have been waiting to do for the last two months. The prospect of reaching my destination and finally starting to do what I have been wanting to do for so long made me both nervous and excited. Even with the frequent warnings from a number of people, advising me against working anywhere near goblins; that aspect of the job held a half the appeal to me. I knew goblins are supposed to be most shrewd creatures of the world. They rarely, if ever, trust a human being and were most resilient to any kind of enchantments that would render a human helpless. The goblins, I am sure, will not care about my beauty or the enchantment that I know I put on people around me. They won't nod to every thing I say just because they are too out of their wits to respond or correct me if I go wrong. Squaring my shoulders and taking a deep breath, I twist the brass handle on the door and step inside. It is as shabby and tiny as the door itself. For a place known even to Madame Maxime in France, the place did not have anything to speak for itself. It took a couple of minutes for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the pub, and that was saying something as there was twilight darkness outside. As the room came into focus, I take in a few tables and chairs setup inside. The whole room seem to buzz with a low hum of conversation around me. An old lady sitting in the far corner of the room is drinking sherry from a mug - like glass, which fills itself up as soon as she finishes it, while being emerged in a book on the table. It is a wonder that she can read in this darkness. Another couple of men are sitting on the middle tables side by side, their feet on the table reading from daily prophet and discussing an article about mandrake vegetation loudly. A couple of men and women are standing by the bar, with a middle aged woman with corkscrew curls, wearing dark maroon robes and having deep conversation with the bartender. The bartender himself is bald, with a toothless smile as his gaze slide from the woman in front of him to the door to check on the new arrival. I know the second his gaze fell on me, as his toothless smile froze and his eyes widened. Following his gaze, the corkscrew hair woman turn her gaze towards me and gasped loudly attracting attention of rest of the patrons. All at once, I felt like a spotlight has been targeted at me, as I make my way towards the bar. The bartender immediately straightens and I have the distinct impression of him straightening his cuffs behind the bar. I am aware of having all eyes on me as I say, "Bonjour meester, can you tell me 'ow to reach Diagon Alley?" The bartender makes a low bow from behind the bar, his bald head brushing the bar counter as he says, "with pleasure Madame, may I introduce myself as the owner and bartender of leaky cauldron. My name is Tom and I would be delighted to be of service to you. Would you care for a drink?" Being used to this kind of gallantry from men, I give him a polite smile and say, "Tom, I would 'ave to decline your offer as I am already veeery late for my businezz. 'owever, I would be delighted eef you can tell me 'ow to get to ze Diagon Alleeey". Tom looks heartbroken, but steps from behind the counter and offers me to carry my medium sized travel bag that I am holding in my hands. I decline and wave my hand for him to lead the way while keeping one hand on my wand in the side pocket of my bag. This is a new place and however friendly, Tom is a stranger. I cannot help but remember my mother's commands to stay vigilant at all times. Tom leads us through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there is nothing but a smelly trash can and a few weeds. I am generally used to hidden and inconspicuous gateways from muggle world to mine, but this is admittedly the most weird of them all. Tom turns, smiling dazedly and gestures to the plain brick wall. I stared at it blankly, not quiet sure what to do to get through. Thankfully Tom, gallantly and with a flourish, removes his wand, while my hand tighten around mine and start counting the bricks on the wall. He tap three bricks up the wall from a particularly moss covered brick and two bricks across before standing back. Almost immediately, the bricks he had touched start quivering and wriggling in the middle. A small hole appear on the wall, which widen and widen until a second later, I am standing to face an archway large enough for a herd of elephants to pass. The archway opens onto a cobbled street that twist and turn out of sight and Tom says, almost slurring, "Diagon Alley, Madame". As I step into the archway and ahead, I hear the bricks shifting and archway closing off with Tom's voice wishing me farewell and to visit again, but I barely glance over my shoulder to wall or him. My eyes are immediately drawn to the sight in front of my eyes. Even with the gray light and light drizzle of late london morning, the place seemed jump out with an array of colours. This is obviously a very lively neighborhood as I see row after row of stalls and shops of each and every magical object that I have ever seen or used, from cauldrons to dress robes. As I walk on, taking in my surroundings, I see many people have ventured the market this morning even with the oncoming storm. People are milling everywhere I look, dressed in colourful robes. After few of the depressing minutes spent in near darkness of the leaky cauldron, the colours around me almost seem overwhelming. Shop after shop pass by, until I am standing in front of a tall and stark white building, which towers over all shops around. Standing beside the burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, is a goblin with an impassive, almost angry expression. He is very short, shorter than my hip level, with very long fingers and pointy beard that made him look like a disciplinarian. As I step up the white marbled steps of the Gringotts wizard bank, the goblin makes a bow, but its nothing like the entranced or gallant bow made by Tom. No, this bow is rigid and seems to be the repetition of an event that has occurred many times today already. I immediately feel a little better about my decision to work with goblins. Yes, they were very unfriendly and nasty to witches and wizards, even distrustful, but they would not see me for anything more than an able employee that can accomplish their job. They couldn't care less how I look as long as I am good at my work here. I had tried to secure a permanent job here at Gringotts, but because of its goblin - dominated work environment, I was given a part - time job to work as an assistant to one of their curse breakers that has been recently transferred from Gringotts branch in Egypt to Britain, and who would need assistance with the desk job assigned to him to keep records of all Gringotts account holders transactions and their valuables stored. As I pass the bronze door, I find myself facing a second pair of doors, silver this time with words engraved upon it:

"Enter, stranger, but take heed,

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors,

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned,

beware of finding more than treasure there."

I sniff, my mother's haughtiness entering my system at once as I read the warning engraved on the door. Like, I am barking mad to try to rob Gringotts. Or even that desperate for gold, or death. Even with no experience of British Gringotts, I am aware of how any wizarding banks controlled by goblins work. There are even rumours of locked monsters and dragons in its dungeons and high security vaults. Which I find absolutely pointless as only an incomparably powerful wizard will be able to get past goblins, for dragons to take turns charring the thief. As I pass silver double doors with engravings, two more goblin bow at me from each side of the door with same impassive, almost angry expressions and I find myself standing in a great white marble hall. Here, there are more than hundreds of goblins are milling about or sitting on high stools while they weight or examine gems on their long desks with eyeglasses. Nobody pays me any attention as I pass them, all of them too engrossed on their work to pay any heed to a new arrival. This is a new experience for me, as usually I command all the attention of the room the minute I step in. This reception both delights and unsettles me, as I make my way to a long white marble counter filled with goblins behind it and many witches and wizards standing in front of it, waiting for their turn. As I stand behind a gray haired wizard with green robes and matching pointy hat, I try to control the nervous belly flops taking place in my stomach. Finally, after a few minutes, its my turn at the desk and I approach a bored faced goblin with white tuft collars and cuffs behind the desk. As he looks up at me, I realise that the goblin is anything but bored. Even though his face seem indifferent and forelone, his eyes are sharp and clever, as if not a slightest twitch will be missed by him. In what I assume, is a friendly smile and voice, I start, "Bonjo- I mean, 'elloo, my name eez Fleur Delacour, and I am suppozed to start my job 'ere from today. Can you pleeze tell me where to find ze right person?" The goblin stares at me for a moment, but it is not the bedazzled stare I am used from people. His stare is more of surprise, which, after a beat turns annoyed as he gazes up at me. In a slightly nasely high pitched voice he replies, "You are very late, miss. You were supposed to reach here one hour thirty-nine minutes ago" referring to his big pocket watch. Something in his accusatory tone makes me raise my eyebrow and reply a little haughtily, "weeell, eef I am correctly notified, ze only person I am suppozed to answer 'ere ees ze curze breaker from Egypt. Eef you are ze one zen I weel surely answer you. But eef you are not, zen would you kindly tell me where to find 'im?" Now the goblin definitely looks angry. Glaring at me, he raises his hand and stretches out his palm in front of me. I gaze from his palm to his face, my eyebrow raising again, this time in silent query. "Wand. I need to register your wand before you proceed," he explains is a nasty voice designed to make me feel stupid. Not wanting to let him succeed in his obvious attempts, I straighten my shoulders and toss my silver blonde hair behind my shoulders, narrowly missing the wizard behind me, whip my wand out of the side pocket of my bag, and place it in his outstretched palm holding his eyes all the while. I might want these goblins to judge me on basis of my attributes and not my beauty, but I refuse to be bossed and dominated around. The goblin push aside the money register in front of him, and from behind the desk produce a very thick roll of parchment unrolling just a quarter of it and sliding my wand across it. With a pale white light shining off the parchment where the wand had just slid, there appears straight, precise writing, noting down my wand height, core and last spell casted by it. The goblin looks up after the light vanishes, and sneers at me, returning my wand and muttering something that oddly sounds like "veela hair" and "bird of a human." I stare defiantly back, challenging him to say it out loud, but he merely calls out to zothart and in a second, another goblin appears beside him. Not taking his disdainful eyes off me, he addresses zothart and says, "Please take Ms. Delacour to the red head curse breaker from Egypt, who she will be answering to." Zothart, who is as unfriendly looking as his fellow goblin nods and gestures at me to follow him. He leads me through one of the many doors lined against both side of great marble hall. As I step past the threshold of the door, I find myself in an endlessly long corridor with doors on both the sides. Many of the doors seem to be locked shut and quiet, whereas some of the unlocked rooms were occupied by goblins and wizards, though the ratio of goblin and wizards were close to 10:1. About halfway down the corridor, Zothart stops and raises his long fingers to knock on a brown door with bronze knob. Without waiting for a reply, zothart push the door open leading me into a large sparsely decorated room. On the right hand side of the door is the same stark marble wall as is all around the bank. On the left hand side, however, there stands a medium sized brown marble counter with the same high seats that all the other goblins use. The top of marble table is currently holding rolls and rolls of parchments, so much that it is a wonder how the contents have not tumbled down the sides yet. A little space beside the marble counter table is a sitting area with a worn leather sofa, two chairs and a small glass coffee table. And on the far end of the room, is a large mahagony desk, cluttered with what seems like piles of books and rolls of parchments, variety of quills and ink bottles. Behind a particularly large pile of books with golden rim, I can barely make out bright red flashing in and out of sight, from my place at the door behind zothart. In the same gravel, high pitched, nassely voice as the other goblin, zothart addresses the person sitting behind the desk and announce, "your assistant has arrived. I'll let you take over from here. Good day." And again, without waiting for a reply, zothart leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Nervously tucking the hair behind my ear, I try to peek at the man behind the desk, but still I can only make out the flash of bright red behind the books. Then, a deep, grumpy voice sounds from somewhere behind the books. "You are very late. You were supposed to be here by 10 am and now it is nearly-" Something about this voice sends goosebumps across my arms. Not liking my reaction to the voice, I interrupt. Tossing my hairs behind my back and squaring my shoulders, I say, "Meedday. Yeez I am veery aware of zat as your coworker reminded me of eet juzt now. Eet waz a veery long journey, longer zan I 'ad expected and zat ees why I am late. 'Owever I do not beeleave een excuses so I apologize and guarantee zat eet weell not be repeated again." I think my outburst took him by surprise, as the man behind the desk stays quiet for a few moments and then release a breath and say in a much calmer, pleasant voice, "sorry for my rudeness miss. It has been a long day, even if it is still just midday. Why don't you come in?" As I make my way to the desk, the person behind it stands and before I can wonder who amongst the goblins can be as tall him, my gaze lands on his face and I freeze. Judging by the frozen smile on his face, I was not the only one frozen at the sight of other. My breath leaves my lungs as I gaze at the man in front of me. He is tall, taller than me with lean muscles and long bright red hairs. His clothes reminds me of the poster of Gabrelle's favourite musical wizard band weird sisters. There is a fang hanging from one of his ears. But those are not the reasons why I feel my whole body frozen on the spot. My state of daze is because, set in the unbelievably handsome face is a pair of clear blue eyes. The same eyes that I have not been able to get out of my head for past two months. He gazes at me with same shocked, confused eyes that I feel, only his eyes are glazing over a little, like they are losing focus. Shaking his head lightly, as if to clear it, he starts hesitantly, "can I help you, miss? Perhaps you have come at the wrong chamber?" His words snaps me out of my dazed state, making me feel a little irritated. Even though I try to control it, my reply comes out a little more harshly than I intend. "Per'aps not. Per'aps I 'ave come to ze right chamber eef thees ees ze chamber of ze curse breaker from Egypt." Frowning slightly, as though he is having difficulty understanding he slowly says, "It is. Do you mean to say that you have come for the job of my assistant?" At my nod, his eyes narrow with what could only be suspicion and a little coldness. Stepping out from behind the desk and he walks a short distance towards me, his dragon hide boots stopping right in front of me and stretching his hand out he introduces himself, "I am William Weasley. As you know, I have just been transferred from Gringotts - Egypt, and am in desperate need of an assistant." His blue eyes sweep around his overflowing, cluttered desk. Even though his voice sounded light and professional enough, there is some coldness in the way addressed me. For some reason, that tone bother me more than the hostility of goblins. I barely manage put my pale, cold palm in his strong, warm one when he withdraws and gestures behind me towards the brown marble counter while avoiding to look directly at my face. "That's your work space, Ms. Delacour. I have already placed the most urgent parchment rolls that needs to be sorted out and recorded in alphabetical order on the record register that you will find behind your desk. I have also been informed that you intend to use this job to improve your English, in which I am to assist you. But seeing as you are two hours late this morning, we will get to the tutoring part from tomorrow onwards, from 11 am to 12 pm. Right now, I would be greatful if you can start with that recording job. It is relatively easy, but if you need any help, feel free to ask." And with that, he turns away from me, still avoiding to look at my face and situates himself behind his desk again, leaving me standing there staring at his - now bent on his own register - red head, making me feel like last 5 minutes were just fragment of my imagination and I still have to introduce myself. I, quietly and more than a little bemusedly, turn and head towards my marble desk, sitting on the high stool and pulling my wand out of my travel bag with one hand while pulling register from the other kept on the second shelf of the desk. Soon I am engrossed in the mundane work of flicking my wand and summoning the next alphabetically correct parchment with one hand and noting down necessary details with the other. But even as I complete the last parchment - only for another set of rolled parchments flying at my desk from across the room, with the man on the desk flicking his wand and not even bothering to look up from his register - I cannot help but wonder, what have I done to receive such a cold welcome from him. I feel little disappointed with myself, having remembered that the last time I saw these particular set of bright blue eyes, I promised myself that next time they gaze at me, they will shine with admiration for me; for reasons other than my face. Feeling my spirits fall a little, I start tackling the next set of records, while my mind drifts to the other side of the room, to the man who won't even look at me. Suddenly feeling a little cold, I remove a scarf from my undetectable extension charmed travel bag and pulling it tightly around me, I try to ward off the cold that has nothing to do with the weather and temperature of London.


	4. Help thy neighbour

"A VEELA!" Screamed my mind, for what felt like a billionth time in the last few hours. The internal screaming, coupled with keeping my head bowed over my register for at least four hours straight now, has started making my head swim and my temples throb. But the alternative was to raise my head and look at the beautiful French _Belle_ sitting across the chamber on the ugly brown marble counter, and lose my mind completely. Not much of a choice to make here; headache it is.

But even with my head bowed over my register, I couldn't get the image of her out of my head. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair falling to her slim waist somehow emphasized her tall willowy figure. Her breathtaking pale face seemed to radiate faint silver glow setting off her large, deep blue eyes. Something about those eyes rang a bell of recognition in the back of my head. But even as I try to grasp it, the logical part of my brain snapped that "of course you haven't seen her before! Can anyone forget her after setting eyes on her even once?" I scowl as this thought crossed my mind, remembering all too well of how I had almost frozen on the spot after catching the very first sight of her.

I barely managed to come back to my senses before making a complete, gaping fool of myself. I had done everything I could to make sure that I don't have to see her straight in the face by, first; averting my eyes, and then practically shoving a pile of parchments in front of her face. Having been a curse breaker of a few years now, I should have been able to recognize the spell she had woven on and around me after catching the first sight of her, but still, it wasn't until she had turned and had almost glided across the room towards her desk, that realization had hit me with the force of a bludger, that she was a veela. Or atleast a part veela, judging by the fact that I was able to get out of that foggy trance in mere minutes.

But even after searching in my brain the hardest for the last four hours, I still couldn't fathom the reason behind her being appointed here at Gringotts. Working with the goblins had taught me that they never did something out of charity or sympathy. They did not even consider talent and competence as a contributing factor to appoint a wizard at Gringotts as long as they don't see some benefit for themselves in it. I was too appointed because they couldn't find a willing goblin - or any other creature, for that matter - to explore the graves and pyramid, curses placed on ancient treasures by the old Egyptian wizards, and counter curses being one if my strong suits I was a useful candidate in their eyes. But even as I was appointed, that nasty goblin who had appointed me had commented that goblins believed that "witches and wizards with even average looks do not have the brains to match it." Then how did Ms. French veela get appointed here in Gringotts - Britain, when she isn't even from Britain? Even I, who was a born and brought up British, had a tough time convincing higher authorities of Gringotts to transfer me to London from Egypt. Of course, that could also be blamed on the current atmosphere of Britain.

About two months ago, it was said that the darkest wizard of this century has returned from his so-called death again, by the same boy who has destroyed him 14 years ago. Of course, Dumbledore had believed Harry, and had taken it upon himself to do whatever he could to stop Voldemort from becoming as powerful as he was before his downfall 14 years ago. For me and my family, all except Percy of course, Dumbledore and Harry's word was as good as witnessing the dark lord in flesh ourselves, but it obviously wasn't just as good for the ministry. Instead of trying to stop the Dark Lord, they were busy in devising plans to discourage Dumbledore and discrediting him and Harry.

Seeing as the only way to stop Voldemort from becoming indestructibly powerful again was to take matters in our own hands, Dumbledore had re-awakened the Order of the Phoenix while recruiting as many allies as possible to fight the Dark forces. In the last Order meeting a few days ago, the members were given information by Severus Snape's inside reports that the Dark lord was secretly on the move, collecting as many allies and followers as he can to strengthen his army, and was planning to take goblins over to his side. They had asked me to keep an eye on anybody who might be a negotiator from the dark side, but so far I have had nothing interesting to report. Well, nothing interesting for Order that is, I think, as I eye the beauty sitting in the other side of room, noting down the details from a particularly worn piece of a parchment roll. As I continue to eye her from behind the large pile of books at my desk, a horrible thought crosses my mind, even as a little enchanted fog starts to block my thoughts. What if... What if the Dark Lord has finally sent his negotiator? What if the young veela girl sharing the work chamber with me right this minute is sent here solely to draw more forces for the evil, while passing by undetected behind her enchanting beauty? Her appointment here was suspiciously indicating that she had been recommended here by someone so influential that even goblins couldn't find a reason to deny giving her this job. And I was well aware that goblins were not easy to sway. Was it possible that the she was a pawn sent by the dark lord to include goblins in his forces?

As I sit there, contemplating this theory over and over in my head, she suddenly turned her head and the deep blue eyes collided with mine. The contact lasted only for a split second before she turned back to her parchment, but in that split second I felt a sharp prick of guilt that had nothing to do with secretly staring at her. For some reason, doubting her motives made me feel like a git. For the first time in last four hours, I noticed that she had thrown a bright yellow scarf around her shoulders over her powder blue dress robes and was clutching it, as if to ward off the cold. Somehow that small action of clutching her scarf made her look vulnerable, and made me open my mouth and talk to her for the first time since her sitting in her desk. In what I hoped to be a casual tone, I asked the first thing that came to my mind. ..

"So," I start, ignoring a light mist - like smoke starting to cloud my mind as she looked up at me fully. I continue, "did you apparate straight to Diagon Alley or did you take muggle transport all the way from France to Gringotts?" She seemed startled by my query but answered in a normal, if a little puzzled tone, "Non, je - I mean, No I deed not apparate at Diagon alleey. I apparate at muggle station named Keengs cross and zen came to Diagon alley through zat pub called leeky cauldron. My papà and maman thought eet weel be much safer to use zat way. Zat ees why I waz so late zis morning" Her answer indicated she had some idea about the disappearances happening in Britain even though the ministry and Daily prophet were doing all they can to hide it. Trying to hide my internal musing I ask her another question almost as soon as she finished her talking. "Have you had lunch yet?" It seemed like that was a wrong thing to ask somehow, because her pretty eyes turned a little hard with anger and, what looked like hurt. In a surprisingly hard voice, for such a delicate looking creature, she replied, "ou- yez I 'ad my lunch about deux- I mean two 'ours ago. Per'aps you would 'ave noticed eef you 'ad looked up from zat intéressant- zat ees, interesting register of yours". And with that flippant answer, she returned back to her register, leaving me staring at her with confusion clouding my mind this time, instead of enticing fog.

An hour later, Ms. Delacour sat up, completing her work for the day, looking a little stiff in demeanor. I tried not to be obvious in my staring as she crossed the room towards me while holding her register in her hands. She placed the register on my desk and said, "eet ees done Mr. Weeslee. And as I am working 'ere part time, eet ees time for me to leeve but as I waz tard, um, late eef you want I can rester, er - stay some more tem - time to cover up." Looking up at her, and noting the stiffness in her voice as well as body, I know that she is still hurt about my query for lunch. But for the life of me I cannot understand why. So I ask, purposely keeping my voice hesitant, "Ms. Delacour, excuse me, but what exactly did I say that has offended you so much?" She stared at me for a few second, clearly surprised at my question, then drawing herself up replied, "Mr. Weeslee, 'ave you ever been ignored by someone so much zat zey did not notice you gone for ze whole 'alf and 'our? And zat too wheen you 'ave not done anytheeng to mériter, er... Deserve eet? I know I waz late diz matin, I meen morning and ze other peeple 'ere - ze goblins are not friendly by zer nature but what 'ave I done to earn your désapprobation, I meen - er, non approval?" All through her speech, I noticed that her accent got thicker by each word, making it very difficult to understand what she was trying to say. But her point got through as I felt another wave of guilt run through my chest at the hurt in her eyes which she was trying to cover with anger. Slowly I sat up in my chair, having being slumped in straight backed wooden seat unconsciously and replied in soft voice, "I am sorry Ms. Delacour. I didn't mean - ". But before I can complete, a knock sounded on the door and a goblin named razak walked in without waiting for the permission to do so.

The goblins walked the place as if they owned it and does not require any permission to enter the chamber. The only reason they even bothered with knocking was out of ingrained courtesy to do so, as the manners dictated them to atleast knock before entering the room. Razak walked up to my desk standing beside Fleur and held his hand out, asking for the registers that fleur and I spent all afternoon filling, while placing another register on my desk, to be filled by me till the end of my shift at 6 pm. Without another word, I placed the register in razak's hand and he walked out, leaving me alone with fleur again. But before I could pick up on where I had left off my apology, she briskly asked me, "ees zer anytheeng you need me for, or I am free to leeve, Mr. Weeslee?"

"No, I don't think there will be - " but before I had gotten the whole sentence out of my mouth, she had turned away from me with a jerky nod, headed back to her desk, collected her bag which she had brought with her this morning and left the room before I had managed to drawn another breath. I blinked.

Well, I thought, tomorrow is another day. And maybe we will be able to get on cordial terms once I started tutoring her on her English. But first I had another Order meeting and a family dinner to survive, with my mom nagging me to get myself a haircut again and Fred and George trying to trick me into eating one of their new inventions, or worse trying to find out the source of my preoccupation. Because God knows, I have never been this distracted all my life and especially because of a certain blue eyed, silver glowing and hurt - feelings part veela. Heaving a big sigh, I open the register that razak had just left for me, all the while thinking of a long evening ahead of me

It is almost midnight as I trudge up the stairs of my third floor rented apartment in the building above a small cauldron store called Benign's world of leak proof cauldrons. As sad as the store name sounded, the apartments were a lot better in comparison. Of course I could have just stayed at the Burrow, but there was something very unsettling about living with your parents once you have lived alone and away from them. Besides, my tolerance was just enough to spend family holidays with Fred and George, enduring their endless ribbing and pranks. They were, admittedly, the best set of brothers and funniest people in the world, until their jokes turned on you. Besides, Gringotts was just around the corner from this apartment, so that was an added advantage. Initially, Mum was a little hurt with my decision to rent an apartment here instead of living with them and had demanded that I dissuade the thought at once, but dad had somehow managed to convince her otherwise. Mum was further placated by the thought that I only came here to sleep and dress, as most days, I went to the Grimmauld place, the official head quarters of the Order, for meetings, and returned with my head and stomach full to the hilt with the bleak situation surrounding ministry and the dark lord and, my mum's food.

Today was no different than most days, with my ex - professor Snape presenting reports on the activities of the Death Eaters, Mad Eye Moody's instructions for constant vigilance and Dumbledore's protection details for Harry's security at Surrey and security duty of the door, outside the departments of mysteries. This week, I had to stand guard for Harry's security on Wednesday and at ministry, under cloak of invisibility, on Saturday. Dumbledore liked to keep rotating the guard duties with changing companions for extra safety, and since last week I had already stood guard two nights ago and had to invest extra hours at the bank because of my recent transfer, I was practically dead on my feet. The only variation tonight had been that Fred and George had - unsurprisingly - managed to get the reason for my distraction out of me by mixing a little, or a lot, of tongue loosening powder - still a work in progress, they had said - in my tea after dinner as I had sat in the living room. I scowled as I felt the last of its effect fade, making my tongue get back in control of me. I loved those two gits, but sometimes, they were a real pain in the butt.

As I reach my door and click my magically secured locks open by taping my wand on the door knob, I notice that the only other apartment on this floor whose door is right across from mine is missing its big, sturdy gray lock that had hung from it since I had moved here. Seems like I finally have a neighbour here. Stepping into my apartment and setting my carry bag on the table beside the door and placing my wand in my back pocket, I head straight towards my bedroom to change and call it a night. But it seemed like sleep had decide to ignore me just as I had ignored a certain beautiful girl this morning, for I barely manage to drag my muggle shirt over my head when I hear a scream followed by a delicate whimper from the thin wall of my bedroom. Instinct takes over as I draw my wand from the back pocket of my pants and point it at the wall, as if the stark white wall is about to attack me. Belatedly, I realize that the scream had come from other side of the wall and from my new neighbour. Before I realise what I am doing, I rush back to my living room in long strides and flick my wand, opening my door without pausing. I bang on my neighbour's door, calling out as I do and asking what was wrong. The sane and rational part of my brain said that I might be overreacting to a possibly mundane situation, but with Mad Eye's barks of keeping constant vigilance and Snape's gruesome reports of the activities of the Death Eaters that were covered up by ministry and ignored by Daily Prophet still fresh in my mind, I cannot help my reaction. When I don't get response from the other side of the door, I raise my wand in the air and whisper, "muffliato" to avoid creating a ruksuck in case the situation didn't turn out to be as dire as I thought, and then point my wand at the door and whisper "alohomora!" The door swung open, revealing a living room similar to mine but with definite feminine touches.

As I step through the open door and advance further into the house, I hear faint whimper from open bedroom door which is mirror opposite to mine and I know that I share my bedroom wall with that of my neighbour. As I rush towards and into the bedroom with the sound of whimper growing louder, the first thing I notice is that a tall, slight figure is cowering in the darkness the far corner of the room beside a single bed, with both the figure and the bed having their backs pressed to the thin wall shared by me. But my eyes do not linger on the figure, immediately drawing onto the floor because, there on the floor, lays a still body of a young boy. I freeze, as I take in the sight of the lifeless body of a boy who cannot be more than 17 or 18 years old. He's in Hogwarts school robes, with his eyes staring lifelessly up at the ceiling. As I watch him, I feel a shock of recognition go through me and a split second later, realize that I am staring down at the body of Cedric Diggory in exactly same position as he had been when he had died almost 2 months ago and harry had brought his body back from the maze of their final task of the tri-wizard tournament.

But how was this possible? Cedric had died at Hogwarts and his body was given to his parents. I, myself, had been among the people who had attended his funeral not far from his home. But then how did his body came about to lie here, in this room on the floor? As I continue to stare at the dead body of Cedric Diggory, something very peculiar happens. I hear a faint whisper from the darkened corner across the room that oddly sounded like "Ri-Riddikulus". Immediately, there is a popping sound like a gun shot and Cedric's body turns that of a scarecrow which, with another pop, further turns into a woman's body, with flaming red hair, heart shaped face and plump figure. My mum. For a second, all air leaves me as I stare at my mum's lifeless body; but awareness soon floods me as I realize that lying there, on the floor lifeless, is not my mother but a boggart. Aiming my wand at the body of my mum on the floor I shout, "Riddikulus!" Again with the popping sound, the body turns into ballon and then into the body of a small girl with silver blond hair fanned about her, her body utterly lifeless.

The figure in the corner repeats, her voice stronger than before, "riddikulus!" And on and on it goes on for a few minutes, with the boggart shifting his shape from my dad, to a plump jovial looking man, to Charlie, to a gorgeous middle aged woman in silk robes and silvery blond hair until the figure steps out of the darkness and confuses the boggart to such an extent that it can't take it any longer and explodes into tiny pieces. Breathing a sigh of relief, I look up with a smile towards my companion, only for that smile to freeze on the spot, belatedly realizing that I am standing in another's house - her house - shirtless. Because standing there, wrapped in rose colored night robes, her pale face white as a ghost in the dimly lit bedroom, silvery blonde hairs a complete disarray, was one woman I hadn't been able to get my mind off from all day today. Standing there, in the apartment across from mine and sharing a thin bedroom wall with me was one part veela, Ms. Fleur Delacour, my new assistant at Gringotts and, apparently, my new next door neighbour. God. Sleep really was taking revenge on me by ignoring me, on fleur's behalf.


	5. A soft spot

As I stood staring at the shirtless man standing in my bedroom, who was staring back at me with an expression of utter disbelief and shock - a mirror image of my face, I am sure - I had to admit that I was wrong. Totally and utterly wrong, and not to mention completely foolish. Completely foolish to think that this day cannot get any worse and that it was finally over. Even though it was past midnight, it seemed like the day was not done with me yet. It had taken me almost five hours to get the image of this particular set of sparkling blue eyes - though, shining with guilt and apology then - out of my head, and just when I thought that I had managed that near impossible feat, I find those same sparkling blue eyes staring back at me; shining like dark sapphires in the dim light of my bedroom. In my bedroom! I couldn't even grasp the threads to connect how I managed to myself here? Oh, of course, the Boggart. Just another star in my already shining day. As if, I wasn't already having the most wonderful - horrendously wonderful - day of my life, first, by getting late for my first day at work and having to endure those nasty goblin tantrums, second, getting a cold shoulder from the guy who had not only managed to get my heart fluttering with just a glance two months ago, but who also turned out to be my boss at Gringotts, then getting ignored from that same guy the whole time I was working in his office, topping it all with the spectacular icing, that was currently what I was supposed to call home, with a perfect cherry of a Boggart jumping out of my writing desk. I suppressed a sigh at my own thoughts of comparing this awful day to a pastry. I had left Gringotts hoping that by separating myself from the source of my unsettled thoughts - and of course, by getting a good night's sleep, my mother's answer to stress, in the process - will help me find my equilibrium back again. But of course that was, clearly, too much to ask from this day. I knew this, as soon as I had reached my destination, also known as; the place I was supposed to call home. When Madame Maxime had said that the apartment that she had managed to arrange at such short notice was, at best modest, and at worst inhabitable; I had thought that she was just being her snobbish self because, of course anyone who has known Madame Maxime knew that her standards about accommodations were high enough to make white Gringotts building green with envy. But as it turned out, she wasn't just exaggerating about the state of the things this time. My apartment, for which I am supposed to pay 20 galleons per a week, was a warehouse turned apartment building above a tiny cauldron shop called Benign's world of leak proof cauldrons. The only acceptable point that I had so far managed to find about the place is that it is just around the corner from Gringotts. As I had stepped into the cobwebbed living room with a small, and abnormally straight backed owner of the shop and apartment Mr. Benign through the cluttered cauldron shop, it was obvious to me that the place has been uncared for, for longer than my O.W.Ls. the gray paint on the walls, which was probably white at some point was peeling from each and every corner, the furniture in terrible need for repairs. The place had a wet, mouldy air to it with its tiny and grubby rooms and dim lights. The bedroom wall looked like a lone brick wall was put up on the one fourth of the living room to build separate room containing a single bed with, thankfully, clean sheets, an old writing desk and chair and a tiny wardrobe. The bedroom where, incidently, now stood the shirtless man, with wand in hand. It had taken me the whole evening to clean most nook and grainy corner of the apartment even with flick of a wand, flicking it more time than i cared to count, until I had finally collapsed on the creaky bed, tired and decided to skip the dinner. I might have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew was opening my eyes to utter darkness in the room and to the sound of a dull thump from a still dusty writing table by the window. I knew at once what was banging in the desk with those dull thuds, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened once I had released the Boggart to get rid of it. I had practiced with boggarts inneumerous times at school but there, I always had a teacher or a fellow classmate to help me with it. Facing it all alone was as scary as the real event of Cedric Diggory's death, maybe even more, as then I had the whole school around me and to catch me as I had fainted once again, this time with shock, after seeing the lifeless body of my competitor. Seeing that cold body with open, lifeless eyes, I had not realized that I had cowered in the corner while scream had left me. Only when I felt wetness of my tears getting cold on my cheeks had I realized that I had been crying all along. Steeling myself, I was about to visualise something - anything - humorous in my most wretched nightmare when someone had barged in my room, freezing at the sight of the body of a young boy on the floor. The lights were too dim for me to see his face, which was angled away from me, and towards the boggart. Somewhere outside a night bird had crowed, giving me an inspiration and raising my wand I had managed to turn boggart into a scarecrow, which had immediately popped into body of an older woman who looked oddly familiar from my angle, but I couldn't place her plump figure and bushy dark hairs. But this, apparently, had made the guy standing near it snap into action, for he had raised his wand and turned the boggart into a balloon, which then led for boggart to turn its attention to me. On and on we had gone, until I stepped out of the refuge by the wall, confusing it to such an extent that it exploded with loud bang. I had been ecstatic, turning to my companion to congratulate and thank him, looking as he did the same, turning his head towards me, only for both of us to freeze the moment our eyes met. As I reeled in the shock of seeing none other than William Weasley standing in my bedroom, shirtless, he shook his head, frowning, and asked in a soft voice, "Fleu- Ms. Delacour? What, in the Merlin's name, are you doing here?" His question snapped me out of my shock as I blinked and then narrowed my eyes. He was the one standing in my apartment - in my bedroom! - shirtless. Shirtless! And he is asking me of what I am doing here? I tried to let anger flow through me to tamper down the fear of witnessing my worst nightmare while I answered, "Moi?! Tu asking me what I am doing een moi- my own appartement?" I know I have miserably failed to sound angry when my voice sounds trembling and hoarse even in my own ears. He, apparently, hears it too because his eyes softened a little, as does his voice as he turns fully towards me, oblivious to his shirtless state and says, "So, you are my new next door neighbour." It takes a few moments for his words to register, as my eyes and mind are busy, greedily taking in his spectacularly broad chest, all that long, lean and glorious strength of his arms and biceps, his narrow waist and light sprinkle of, what I now know to be, red hairs. When the words finally register, however, my eyes snap to his almost navy blues at the moment and I ask in stunned voice, "Neighbour? You leeve 'ere? Een zees buildeeng?" Nodding he replies, "On the same floor, actually. The only other apartment here. I heard your scream through my wall when I was cha-" he stopped abruptly, and glanced down to his naked torso, as if only just realising that he was standing in front of me shirtless. He cleared him throat and shifted from one foot to another, looking as if he would like nothing more to make a run for the door. For some reason, I find his plight slightly amusing, and for the first time since the boggart had jumped out of the desk, I find myself relaxing even in the company of my half undressed boss. I really should stop thinking about his state of undress, and stop staring at the same. Then something occurred to me. "Tu ente- I mean, you 'eard me scream? 'Ow? And from where? Our por- doors are veery far apart for you to 'ear me, eesn't eet?" Now he looks downright mortified, almost squirming with embarrassment. But he looks at me with a raised eyebrow, as if wanting to see my reaction, and say, "We share a wall Ms. Delacour. The wall behind you? I, too, have my bedroom on the other side of it." I feel my jaw drop. We share a bedroom wall! I blink. We share a bedroom wall? As if looking at him at Gringotts and having to act normal around him wasn't enough, as if the knowledge that he lives in same building, same floor as mine wasn't enough of a torture; but of course, we have to have a shared bedroom wall! I wasn't sure now that it was just this day, or my luck that had taken a turn for worse. I came to Gringotts because I thought that working with goblins will make me feel confident that I am judged on basis of my merits, and not because I have an enchantment around me that has created the illusion of love and perfection, live at a place where nobody I knew will be around me and where I can prove to myself and the others that I am not some hottie - snotty brainless veela who always needs a shoulder and a wand of a Knight in shining robes to survive. But instead, I got to have one young wizard amongst a thousand goblins as my boss, who, instead to falling in love, or even liking me, seems to have developed a dislike of me almost as much as the goblins, who happens to live in same grubby building as mine, on the same floor and now shares the same bedroom wall with mine. Seeming satisfied with my reaction, he let his gaze take one last sweeping glance around my bedroom, then looking at me again, gave me a smile that said he knew exactly how the news of shared wall has affected me and said, "Well Ms. Delacour, seeing as you are new here, feel free to ask for any assistance if required. You just have to holler if you need something, and I'll hear you" And with those words and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he turned towards my bedroom door, apparently at ease with his half naked self now that he has stunned me into silence, and let himself out of it. I follow, for once not able to think of any sassy comeback for which I had earned a reputation at Beuxbatons. As we reach the door and he stepped out of my apartment, he turned and said, "Oh, and may I suggest you secure your door better? I was able to get through it with the simplest of the spell. This area is not famous for it's security Ms. Delacour, and with the times like these, you can never be too careful." With that he turned and walked up to his door and waited until I closed my door, after which I heard his apartment door shut quietly. If anyone else had advised me to secure my doors better, I would have just flipped my hairs and said on his face that my mother is in Paris and I don't need one here in Britain, but something about his concerned eyes, his face devoid of all the previous humor and mischief, and his sweet thoughtfulness to jump to my rescue before and to keep watching at me while I closed my door before he closed his, had me raising my wand - which I still clutched unconsciously in my hand after getting rid of boggart - and casting a few hexes and spells that I knew, to secure my door, before retracing my steps to bedroom again, all the while thinking that he couldn't really hate me if he was that concerned about my safety. As I slip out of my robes and lie down on my single bed mattress, I feel all the excitement of the day washing over me in a huge tidal wave of exhaustion. Keeping my eyes lids open felt way too much of a job, so letting them shut as I float somewhere between consciousness and dark oblivion. I didn't know if it was my imagination or reality, but I felt like I could hear faint rustling from other side of the wall, as I drift towards peaceful oblivion, vaguely wondering why I had a smile on my face if having him on the other side of the wall was that bad a luck.

The goblin at the reception desk gave me a nasty look as I pass my wand to him for the day's registration. He swiped my wand on the open parchment in front of him and then returned it to me with a look that told me I was not going to like whatever he was about to say. It was a Saturday of a very long first week and if this goblin messed with me today, even I had no idea what I would do. In the same gravely and slightly nasally voice he said, "Ah, Ms. Delacour. I see we finally managed to get here on time, eh? Good thing too as when the bank opens for clients at 10 am, it gets too crowded to find your way to the right place. I don't suppose you need assistance to find your office, having been visiting it all week?" His words indicated a polite query to assist a new employee, but the tone of his voice gave the exact opposite meaning to his words. He wanted to make sure that I know of his opinions on my sense of directions and ability to find a way to reach my destination, also nastily commenting on my memory and indicating my helplessness. Gritting my teeth, I am about to answer him as to where to shove his offer of help, when a deep masculine voice speaks up from somewhere behind me. "Now now, Noles I do not think Ms. Delacour here needs any kind of assistance finding her office; but if she does, I'll make sure to lend my assistance to her." I turn and see Bill is standing right behind me, close enough to overhear our conversation but still far enough to be considered respectable. He is in another one of his rock concert outfits, but in bottle green colour. It has been almost a week since our encounter in my room, an awkward week of polite smiles and professional exchanges. Everyday, I somehow manage to either get to work before him - being already engrossed in work, by the time he makes it to the office - or miss him by a few minutes, leading to him being swamped with work till then. Everyday I would wait for him to return to his apartment so I could some how remove this awkward barrier from between us by being a friendly neighbour and coworker to him, but most nights he would come so late that it would make me look downright stalker to walk up to his apartment with any excuse. Many nights, I even suspected that he didn't return home, having been listening for any movement in his room through my wall and not hearing any. Vaguely, I even wondered if he had a girlfriend to keep him busy enough to not return home a few nights, but dismissed that awful-for-some-reason thought immediately. I had hoped that our English sessions might prove to be an ice breaker, but so far we had been so swamped with work that none of us has managed to find any free time for a session yet. Looking up at him now, the I-can-take-care-of-myself part of me jumps up to snap at him for defending me, as I did not need people coming to my rescue all the time, but looking at the pleasant yet steely look on his face makes me swallow my protests. Something in his demeanor is screaming at Noles that, I am trying to keep it pleasant, but you need to back off now. Seeming to take the hint, Noles quietly swipes Bill's wand on the parchment below mine, and returns it to him, all the while giving him a meaningful look I cannot understand. There is some undercurrents passing between them that I am having difficulty interpreting. Finally, Bill turns to me with a pleasant, yet professional smile making me feel like a stranger meeting him for the first time and not someone who has seen him half naked just a few nights ago. The thought irritated me, as does the fact that I can still see him standing only half dressed in my bedroom, his now bright blue eyes shining like sapphires in the near darkness. Without another word, he makes the universal gesture of lead the way and follows me to the wooden door leading to the endlessly long corridor with doors. As soon as the door to his cabin close, he turns to me and say, "Ms. Delacour, you really shouldn't mess with goblins. They can be very mean and foul, and play a very dirty game. You should stir as clear from them as you can." And all at once, my suppressed sass and hautiness - my frustration of being polite to him when all I wanted was to have more than just cordial relationship with him, return to the surface with vengeance. Placing my hands on my hips and throwing my hair over my shoulder I say, "Eh! I should steer clear of zem! First of all, mon nom est Fleur, 'ear eet? je m'appelle Fleur. I theenk you can call me fleur insteeed of Mees Delacour after 'aving me see you 'alf naked. Second ees zat, eet ees veery difficult to eegnore goblins because ze place ees overflowing with zem and zey are people who- what waz zat? Mazz- mess! Zey are ze people who mess with me, and je- um, I am not one of ze people who weel take their nastiness like zat. Zey must respect me for what I am and what I do, and eef zey don't? Zen zey weel 'ear eet from me. And third, I can take parfait care for myself, and do not need a sauveur to 'elp me with everytheeng. Eef I need to, zen I can tell zem exactly where to put zer nasty, snarky selfs without anyone 'elping me do eet!" I finished, with my voice several octaves higher than where I had started. Bill stares at me for a few moments in silence, while I breath erratically, having forgotten to breath in my self righteous speech. Finally I huff and cross my arms, my pista green silk robe feeling cool on the overheated skin of my forearms, my whole body on fire from blood pumping too fast in my veins. Whether this is from my breathless speech, the burst of adrenaline in my veins or my mention of seeing him naked - alright, half naked - that night, I have no idea. Whatever it is, I am acutely aware of a faint flush spreading from my neck up to my cheeks, and an increasing urge to squirm under his silent, impassive gaze. As I try to stare defiantly back at him, I notice a slight twitch in his tightly pressed lips. My eyes widen with sudden realisation that he is trying very hard to suppress his laugh. I glower at him, challenging him to laugh with a slight tilt of my head, and that seems to be where his control ends, for a booming, head thrown back, deep from the stomach and whole body shaking laugh leaves him. And just like that, all anger and defiance drains from me. I feel mesmerized as I watch him laugh a booming, happy laugh, my whole being blossoming at the sight of such a glorious, happy display of amusement, his eyes streaming and his face glowing.

I am used to dainty, sophisticated laughs that cannot be heard to people standing 2 feet away from you or a soft, silent chuckle to show amusement, as loudness in expressing sentiments is epitome of unsophistication, according to Madame Maxime. And men, generally, are too dazzled around me to spot a joke, much less laugh on it. But the deep bass-like male laugh coming from Bill makes me wish to be the reason - the only reason - every time he laughed like this. As I stand staring at him, with a small smile on my face and the startling thought of being the reason for his laughter in the future on my mind, he slowly calms down, clearing his throat a few times and wiping his eyes, in a hoarse voice he says, "My, my, you are a fire cracker aren't you, Ms. Delac - I mean, Fleur? You are right, I can call you by your given name after... Well after having you both here and so close at home, and you are also quite right about not needing to be rescued from every situation all the time. You are more than capable of doing that yourself. But, Fleur, Noles is a particularly nasty piece of work, more so than other goblins here, as he is a very close acquaintance of one of the head goblin named Ragnuk, who is feeling particularly hostile towards wizards these days. And given his recent experience only this summer, he is very vocal about his resentment with wizards and I suspect his acquaintance has picked on his hatred on his behalf a little too vehemently." At my questioning look, he pauses, and hesitate, as if deciding how much to share with me. Finally he starts, "A few months ago, during an inter school tri-wizard tournament, Ragnuk had bet his gold on the winner of the final round and though his winning, or even losing for that matter, is debatable, he feels entitled to the winnings of the bet. But the guy he bet, a ministry official, Ludo Bagman, he fled the scene without giving him any gold, and so Ragnuk feels cheated. He further believes that the ministry is conspiring to hide evidence against his rightful wins. That is why Noles-" he stops, probably just noticing my face which I suspect, has gone as stark white as the walls of Gringotts. The tri-wizard tournament. My tri-wizard tournament! I can only guess what the bet had been and how even when undecided about anyone winning, goblins still considered that they are entitled to winning. Bill stares at me for a few moments , then moves closer to me and places a hand on my arm, concern etched on his face. "Are you feeling alright, Fleur?" I shake my head and swallow hard while I feel my knees buckle. For a split second, I think I am going to fall face first on the marble floor, but then I find myself surrounded by warmth, my face pressed in the lean, solid and comforting warmth of Bill's chest. He leads me towards sitting area, lowering me on the couch. I can't understand my reaction to the mention of tri-wizard tournament. It's not like I haven't heard of it for last month of school. Everyone talked about it all the time; the tasks, the winner, the judges and ofcourse, the accident. But never have I ever been reduced to a melting puddle at just a mention of it. Maybe it was because I wasn't expecting Gringotts or goblins to be connected in any manner to that tournament. Maybe that was one of the reasons why I had wanted to come here at Gringotts, so that I may be near the happenings of the events that had followed that incident, but I can still stay detached from the past. Bill stares at me for a while, his handsome face blank, but I can see the wheels in his mind turning at without a stop. Finally he asks me, "how are you connected to all this? The tri-wizard tournament and what-" sudden awareness dawns on his face and he eyes me like he is looking at me for the first time. "Cedric Diggory," he says, not making these two words a question but demanding answers, none the less. For some reason, I feel obligated to answer him and so I say, "Oui, Cedric Diggory. I was zer ze night 'e died. I was one of ze champions. Ze champion of Beuxbatons. And eet ees ze first time I 'ave ever seen someone I knew to die. I don't know eef you 'ave ever experienced eet or not, but even eef you don't see ze person dying, eet ees not sometheeng you forget easily." My words sounded stupid and weak, even in my own ears. Taking a deep breath and trying to shake off embarrassment and the memory of that maze, I say, "Excusez-moi, I deed not mean to turn eento a puddle because of zees. Tu- you just took me by surprise, I theenk." With that, I straighten, letting his hand fall from my back, missing the warmth of his comforting contact. I have no idea what made me say all these things, I might have been taught by my grandma and mother to speak my mind without any fears, but I haven't shared these things with anyone about that night. Part of me felt weak and ashamed to be this affected to the event which neither did I experience myself nor witnessed with my own eyes. But I couldn't wrap my head around the thing that there was a murder of a good friend not very far from me while I lay there stunned by a curse I should have seen coming. I search his face for any kind of resentment, judgement or even pity, but his face only shows the understanding and empathy. As I make to stand, however, he reached out and tapped my shoulder lightly, indicating me to sit down again. For a moment, I think he is about to question me on what I had just told him but when he opens his mouth, the words are completely different. "I don't think you are to start your work right away Ms. Del- Fleur. I seem to remember that I promised you one hour session everyday to improve your English."

"But you said from 11am to 12 pm, deedn't you?" I ask, checking the time in my small pocket watch, which I got as a gift on coming of age by my parents. He chuckles softly and replies, "Why, yes I did say that 11 to 12 will be your lesson, but by that time we will be engrossed in work so much that we might miss the time all together, which you have to admit, has been happening for 4 days now. No point in working for an hour then breaking up for lessons for another hour, only to work one hour after it and breakup again for the lunch at 1pm." It did make sense, so I sit back and ask, "Alright. So, where do we start?"

It is 1.15 pm when I head out of Bill's office, making my way out of the corridor towards one of the many doors on the other side of hall. Bill has already left for lunch having completed his work much faster than me. He had offered to stay back to accompany me to the lunch mess, but having already figured out the way myself by now and wanting to finish my ongoing roll of parchment, I had waved him off to carry on, telling him I will join him right there. As I cross the huge marble hall, my mind replays this morning, so much different from all the others I had spent in Bill's company for the past week. I had been sure that with my irrational emotional outbreak this morning, the day was going to go down the drain. But so far, it was turning into one of the best I had had in a long time. For one, Bill was neither ignoring me, nor was giving me a cold shoulder. It seemed like some sort of barrier has broken within him that had kept him wary of me all of the last 4 days, not to mention that my veela enchantment seemed to be having less and less effect on him with passing time. But then, being a curse breaker for many years, that was to be expected of him, fighting off enchantments like that. What was not expected, however, was his skill as a teacher. To say his lesson was unconventional was putting it mildly, as I had thought he will go in a full fledged teaching mode, making me write and say words, maybe even assign a few reading work like they did in schools. But he coached me of the language as if having an everyday, normal conversation with a friend, only correcting me when I would slip a French word here and there, showing me the English word for it and making me repeat it again. He told me things about himself, like, his education, his days at Hogwarts, his work in Egypt, his wizard friend and fellow curse breaker Zohrab, his pen friend from childhood, his favorite books to read. In return, he asked me to tell him about my school, the most fascinating subjects I found there, graduation, my home in Paris, my friend from Peru who was my roommate in Beuxbatons. At the end of the lesson, it didn't feel like a lesson at all, but more like a pleasant get-to-know-you chat between two budding friends. He had not even bothered to hide behind his usual pile of books today, instead made sure that I had a clear line of vision to him so that I may feel free to ask him anything I liked. As I reach the door to the mess, I find that I have a smile on my face, entering the door leading to mess. The mess at Gringotts is a large room with a long table connecting from the door wall to the wall at the opposite end of the room. The long table is laden with a variety of dishes, desserts, drinks and fruits all courtesy of the house elfs who stand behind the table, nearly invisible behind pile of food, standing there to serve food to employees, as most goblins find it difficult to reach the top of table. The rest of the room is divided into magically formed cubicles having one table in each cubicle seating at least 6 people, the cubicle walls high enough to provide privacy. I make my way to the stack of golden plates at the start of the table, near the door and walk up the length of the table to select my lunch. Most of food here are either goblin specialized or unknown dishes I have no intention to trying. I laden my plate with fresh fruits, mashed potatoes, what looks like pieces of steak cut in smaller size and looking very well grilled. I usually prefer my steak a little raw, but it seems that the British like their steak well cooked. I pick up a silver goblet of wine and make my way to the cubicle, my eyes searching for a certain red head curse breaker. I don't have to look long, as most employees - including goblins - usually head out to eat, leaving a select few to eat in the mess. I spot the flaming red hairs, tied up at the nape of the neck at the far end of the room, sitting in the cubicle, his back to me. I make my way to him, only to stop short as I hear a gravelly voice, sounding like minute stones crunching on the path under the carriage wheel, coming from the same cubicle that is currently occupied by Bill, completing a sentence I did not hear with a word, "... Veela." I know I should move - long buried memory of my british grandma reawakening and saying, "Fleur, my dear, one must not eavesdrop. You know what they say about eavesdroppers, dear...listen long enough and you'll hear something bad about yourself." ringing in my ear - but I stand rooted in the spot, helpless to hear none the less as I hear Bill's reply, "Part veela. I don't believe that Flue- Ms. Delacour is a full veela, as the enchantment, though still there, is not as maddeningly strong as a real veela's is. And so what if she is? I am not talking about my assistant, Ragnuk. What does she have anything to do with what I just told you?" Bill's voice sounds like he's trying hard not to let the politeness slip from his tone. Ragnuk, however, seems to be bent on getting any manner of consideration out of the conversation all together. He continues, "Well, Nolen told me what happened this morning at the reception. How you jumped to her defense in a second when you have known her for not more than 5 to 6 days, and have been working with goblins for nearly 6 to 7 years. If you can side up with a fellow witch in such short notice, what does that say about your loyalties towards us goblins? Why would I trust you if you switch sides to the witch's side faster than you can say boo?" Bill sigh and reply, "Ragnuk, you know how Noles is. He was bullying her, and if proving my loyalties to you means I have to bully a girl, or even let them do it, then you are going to be sorely disappointed. My mum raised me better than that, Ragnuk. Ms. Delacour has nothing to do with what I have been proposing you for a few weeks now, and my standing up for her or helping her out is an unfair way to measure my loyalties. I have been working with you lot for nearly 8 years now. You have known me personally for more than 5 years, and never have I ever given any goblin any reason to judge my loyalty." The goblin was quiet for a few minutes while I wonder whether I should just turn around and sit in a cubicle far away from them. I have a feeling that I am not going to like what will be said next, but I still stand there, wanting to hear it anyway. Ragnuk, apparently, not wanting to give up quietly say, "I hear you are giving her private English lesson. Think you have developed a soft spot for this girl - or rather, part veela - Weasley. I don't trust wizards, much less the part-time assistant girls with veela heritages." For some reason, listening to this nasty goblin claim that Bill has a soft spot for me makes something loosen up in my chest, a knot I didn't know was there, and which, I suspect, had formed the when I had heard Ragnuk utter the word veela. Now when Bill spoke though, he sounded angry, "Soft spot! Ragnuk, she has been here for not a full week, for the love of the God! I barely know her, much less develop any soft or hard spots for her. If I stop a girl from getting bullied or misbehaved, it doesn't mean I have a soft spot for her. She is just a girl - beautiful girl, admittedly - but a common, ordinary girl nonetheless. You have known me for 5 years now, and if my behavior towards a part time assistant here, who has been here for just a whole of 5 days now - which completes today mind you - makes you question my worth and loyalty to you then I don't know what else to say to you." With that Bill stands up from his seat, leaving the privacy of the cubicle and turning, only to freeze for the third time in one week when his gaze landed on me. I am not really sure what expression I have on my face right this moment, but whatever it is couldn't have been pleasant one. Nothing I felt right now is pleasant. That knot in my chest that had loosened at Ragnuk's words is tighter than ever now, shifting to my throat and making it hard to swallow. I still hold my plate and goblet untouched in my hand, but I know I wouldn't be able to intake any of those, any time soon. Quietly I place it, at a table nearby without really seeing where, turned on my heels and headed out of the mess, onto the hall and soon, out of the big bronze doors of Gringotts. I didn't know why I feel so hurt listening to his words. Nothing he has said is a lie, or even mean for that matter, still I couldn't shake off this wretched feeling from my heart. Soon, I am aware that I am not walking alone, for Bill has decided to join me. He is walking quietly alongside me, giving me time to process what exactly was it that was feeling like a burning hole in my throat. Finally, I manage to say the words running through my mind, speaking mostly to myself, "I do not know why I am not feeling 'appy. I 'ad come to Gringotts to be treated as a normal fille, and yet I am not 'appy when I am treated like one. I must be losing my 'ead." I shake my head, trying to control my thoughts, not wanting to have another ourburst in one day. His quiet voice, however, breaks through my misery as he says, "That is not what I meant Fleur. I am sorry that my words have hurt you." "Non, non. Don't be," I replied with a sigh, walking on the busy street of Diagon alley, the shoppers around us milling about, minding their own business; ignoring us. I continue, still speaking almost to myself more than anyone else, "Tu-You deedn't any wrong. I am juzt being stupide. I reeally should 'ave 'ad ze idea zat you dislike me from ze start. I mean you just transferred 'ere and who would want an assistant who needs to be taught 'ow to speak before she can even do ze work? I won't even blâme you for theenking me a burden and ralen- slowing you down but as you are good boy, you would want to 'elp me as you would to anyone in my place because, of course, I really am a ordi-" but before I could complete my sentence, I am forced to stop by a big, warm hand holding mine. I turn and see Bill's face, all his boyish charm and laid back demeanor gone from his face and instead showing grim determination. "I didn't mean you aren't special, Fleur. You might be just like any other girl, but you should know that you are anything but ordinary. Because if you were a just-like-any-other girl, I would never have taken all the pains to avoid looking at you first thing in the morning and lose my focus all day, or to keep a large pile of books in front of me so I could at least manage to get some work done by not looking at you. And believe me when I say all this, I don't mean to speak anything about your maddening veela enchantment - which does seems to be dimming with each passing day, come to think of it -" he mutters that part almost to himself, shifting his eyes from mine for a second, as if only just considering the possibility. His eyes shift back to mine, looking cloudlessly blue like the uncommon sky of London today, and continue, "Good thing too, because as I am growing resistant to the enchantment with each passing day, you are making me admire the girl behind that foggy spell more and more every time. The girl who is determined to survive in an environment where her coworkers are in constant effort of bullying her, where her boss is trying his best to avoid her, where she has no friends and have hope of making one as small as a beetle, any of which is enough to drive any weaker girl away, but not you. Not you, Ms. Delacour," shaking his head. Then sighing with a smile that is almost guilty looking he confesses, "No ordinary girl has ever, or will ever, make me recheck her enchantments on the door every night, or keep a close attention for any sound of distress - or any sound at all - from my side of the wall. Or make me want to protect her any way I could, even if that means I have to undermine her value to me..." He trails off as I stare at him, unable to comprehend his words. There hhas to be something I am missing here, "ask", my mind advice's sagely, " you won't know any other way, Fleur" and so I do. "What do you meen, Beel? Deed you tell lies to 'im, zat goblin, Ragnuk? Or are you juzt saying all zees to make me feel good?" Hearing my words, he smile a dazzling half smile, making me realise how close I am standing to him and say, "my mum raised me better than to be a sweet talker, Fleur. I don't say these kind of things if I don't mean them." He steps even closer to me, cupping my face with one of his warm palm and say with a smallest smile I have ever seen on him. In a mistily soft voice he says, "You, Ms. Fleur Delacour, are one of a kind because of things are there behind you pretty face but which generally gets clouded by your enchanted beauty. Trust me, I would know, having seen quite a few curses wrapped in beautiful packages like yours. Your curse is your enchanted beauty, which overshadows your unparalleled qualities. Never let anyone's words, not even mine, undermine your real value in your own eyes." With that, he releases me and stepped back with a smile that said he knew he has managed to get his point across, leaving me slightly stunned and say, "come now Ms. Delacour. It's the last day of your first week here. Let's finish up so that after precisely two hours, your git of a boss can give you a well deserved treat for an excellent first week and first well done first lesson". Winking, he turns and gestures for me to lead the way back to the Gringotts building, all the while unaware that my heart hasn't stopped somersaulting from the moment he had touched my hand. Somewhere in the back of my mind is a rejoicing knowledge that, for once, a goblin was right about Bill having a soft spot for me, indeed. Who knew, that a day like this will come when I will be feeling elated at a goblin's snide comment.


	6. The Attack

A blast of fuschia smoke welcomed me as I entered my home at The Burrow. Oddly though, as suffocating as smokes generally are, this one was almost pleasant, alluring with the smells of fresh dew, lavenders and very faint vanilla and crisp fire whiskey, if you smell it closely enough. The smells, oddly, reminded me someone that I was trying very hard to forget. Someone with silvery blond hair and eyes so blue that it immediately brought to mind the shimmering blue sea, at dusk. It's Sunday morning, and I had come here hoping to snatch some peaceful moments before returning to Diagon alley or The Grimmauld's place. Grandma Prewett used to say, "if you cannot find peace anywhere else, including your in own head, you come home." With the thought of putting that theory to test today, I had arrived home, knowing that the rest of the family will probably be at the headquarters of the Order, not finding it in myself to go to that depressing, chaotic place myself just yet. But it seems that rest and peace are not on the cards no matter where I go, for the smoke clued me in that the two most rambunctious people in the world are the ones that are currently occupying my only hope for quiet. As if on que, seconds after entering the kitchen, I hear loud thumping from the stairs as Fred entered the kitchen, while George apparated beside him, almost toppling over one another, taking in the smoke and black leathery liquid in the cauldron from which purple sparks now emmited. "Oi! What are you doing here? And what, in the Merlin's name, did you do to our cauldron?" George asked as soon as he spotted me standing, his eyes narrowing. Almost as soon as he stopped speaking, Fred accusingly asked, "Did mum send you here to check on us, Billy?" "Calm down, you lot. Nobody sent me anywhere. But you might want to clean this mess up, for mum is supposed to be here by noon. What is.. Or rather, was supposed to be in that cauldron anyway?" Admittedly, I was almost scared to ask that question, knowing if it involved Fred and George, it has to be brewing trouble, both literally and figuratively, but curiosity got better of me, and vaguely I wondered if curiosity will kill the Bill. Whipping their wands out, both of my brothers started taking care of the business, Fred making the contents in the cauldron vanish, while the tip of George's wand absorbed the smoke from the room. "That, Bill, is something we are working on for our business." Fred said, after the kitchen was back to its normal cluttered, smokeless self. "And what business that is?" I asked only half paying attention as I sit at the table, stretching my toes to remove crink and exhaustion of last night. "Well, it is called none of your business, git. What are you doing here, anyways? We thought you were supposed to be at the head quarters, reporting last night's events... What ever they are?" George's question seemed casual, but I could hear burning curiosity there, as clear as the babbling of gnomes in the yard. Fred and George had come of age this April, and therefore were free to use magic outside the school - a fact, they have been exploiting all summer, as much as their newly acquired apparition license - but were still not allowed to join The Order, much to their displeasure. Because of this, they have been constantly trying to scrape pieces of information from different Order members, or through spying on the Order meetings, but so far, they have only managed to gleen vague knowledge of the activities of Order. Smirking, I get myself a goblet of water, careful not to let any of them near it, and say, "the Order can wait, since I don't have anything very interesting to report to them. Besides, a man needs his rest. I have been on my feet for last 12 hours or so, and feel, rightly, entitled to get some rest. So, you do whatever your 'business' is, as long as you let me get some sleep." Yesterday, after getting off the work, I had taken Fleur to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, a few blocks away from Gringotts, to celebrate her first week at work and then had walked her to apartment to make sure she reached home safely. God knows, being eldest of seven, protective instincts and caution for others' safety has become part of my DNA since Charlie was born, which only intensified when Ginny, my youngest and only sister came. I couldn't shake off the need to make sure Fleur reached home safe, and stayed safe. For the last week, I have been keeping an eye on her to make sure she isn't met to any harm, while keeping as much distance from her as possible. I may need her safe, but I don't need her in my life at the moment with my connections to The Order and near brushes to danger almost everyday. The need to be close to her, and yet to keep her safe has been waging war in my head for the whole last week, resulting in sprouting all of my thoughts and feelings to her when I saw the hurt in her eyes after overhearing my conversation with Ragnuk. Still, I might have managed to erase that awful, wounded look from her face, but also had a feeling that I might have inflicted something much worse on her by honestly telling her how much I cared for her in just a week. Hope, I knew, was a very dangerous thing, and not something I wanted to give to someone like her, if I couldn't follow through. That is one of the reasons I didn't return to my apartment this morning after my duty to stand guard to Harry Potter in Surrey. Feeling how much I had wanted to see her today even with my resolve to keep her away from danger and me had me avoiding my apartment like it had pixie infestation.

"Sleep? If you wanted some sleep then why did you come here?" George's grumbling dragged me back to now, as I watched both of them putting away vials and scales hurriedly while keeping an eye on the door. "Yeah," Fred continued. "You have your own apartment, afterall. Why would you need to come here to sleep? Unless..." he trailed off suddenly eyeing me with new interest while raising his brow at his twin, who had his eyes trained in me too, while he made the contents of their experiment disappear. "Unless, what?" I asked warily, knowing that they have somehow guessed the root cause of my presence here. "Unless, someone zere ees keeping you awake?" Fred drawled in almost exact Fleur's accent, while taking a seat on other chairs with George, who further continued, "Ees zat right, beel? Ees someone not letting you sleep een your own apartment?" Shit. I knew I would pay for not being vigilant enough a week ago when they had managed to extract all information about my new assistant. Rising from the table, I barely resisted the urge to give them a very offensive finger gesture and instead said, "I am exhausted, and am going to bed. You keep your tongues stuck to its roof about this, or mine might unstick about certain love potions brewing in mum's kitchen this morning. Good day." Leaving them laughing and, maybe even slightly surprised that I figured the nature of their brew out, I head to my old bedroom all the while wondering why the smells from a love potion made me think of a girl I barely knew.

The ministry was quiet. Way too quiet. It's almost 2'o clock in the morning and the last of ministry official has left hours ago. I have been standing guard under invisibility cloak for more than 8 hours now, with the ministry closing at 6 pm on Sundays, and felt like every part of my body was ready to fall off. Not getting any sleep last night and little to no rest this morning, made me feel ready to curl up on the floor and snore as loud as a banshee. Of course that won't do, what with keeping watch on one of the ministry's departments and getting relieved off it in an hour anyway. The auror that was supposed to stand guard tonight had not shown up when he was supposed to, and in emergency, I was dispatched here till dad arrives to take over the duty at 3 am or so. Just as I was about to lean by the pillar near the door that I am supposed to guard, I heard a very faint squeak of shoes slipping on marble floor not very far from where I stood. All thoughts of exhaustion and sleep immediately left my head as I quietly drew my wand and waited under the cloak for my intruder to appear. I didn't have to wait long, for just a few minutes later a tall, lanky man appeared at the mouth of the corridor, wand in hand but not at ready, his hand hanging by his side. He whispered,"Bill, it's me. Show yourself." As the man came in light, I recognized the familiar residing red hairs and glasses but didn't relax my stance. Quietly stepping near my the man who was supposed to be my father I whispered, "When was the first time your eldest son saw you cry?" Startled for a second, the man jumped, but answered in a calm voice, "When I was recounting to him how his youngest sibling nearly died at the age of 11, by the hands of a diary." Feeling myself relax, I removed the hood of the clock and stepped in front of dad and said, "Sorry about that, but you are early." Taking my offered cloak of invisibility, dad replied, "Yeah, your mom was worried. Said you stood guarding Harry whole night yesterday, and didn't get much rest today. Well, I have it covered here son, go home and get some sleep before you go to work come morning." As dad pulled the hood of cloak on his head and disappeared from view, I had a strange sense of dread sweep over me. Surely it's just paranoia and fatigue. I knew dad was careful not to let anyone follow him here, but I couldn't seem to shake off the feeling that something was amiss. The feeling only grew more and more intense as I stepped out of the ministry building, walking a few blocks before I could disapparate. Keeping an eye around myself, all the while maintaining a strong hold on my wand in my pocket, a physical blow landed on the back of my head. Searing pain shot through me, making me stumble and blurring my vision for a second. Through my unfocused eyes, I saw a flash of light somewhere to my left and on instinct, jumped to my right to avoid it, hitting the wall of a building. Realising just then that I have my wand in my hand, I turned blindly and cast a stunning spell to my left. My response might have caught my attacker by surprise for I heard him swear not very far from me and through my now focusing eyes, saw a tall, bulky shadow duck and narrowly miss my haphazardly casted spell. Pushing off the wall behind me, I straightened and cast another stunning spell at him, only for him to growl and cast a protective charm and answering with a curse of his own. I duck at last second, the spell hitting the wall behind me and splinters of bricks flying off in my direction. Momentarily getting distracted by the dust flying in my eye, I missed the moment my attacker chose to send another curse flying at me, hitting me straight in chest and sending me flying behind while my wand fell a few feet away from me, clattering on the ground. Before I could try to reach it, however, my opponent walked upto me and stood right in my line of vision between me and my wand. Trying to get up seemed like struggling against an invisible wall covering my whole body, and with a jolt I realized that I was tied down in some kind of body binding curse. Looking up, I could see the heavily bearded face of a death eater whose name I cannot remember, smirking cruelly at me. "Out for a stroll, pretty boy?" he drawled, mockingly, in a thick, rusty voice and then kicked me hard in the ribs twice before continuing, "Didn't mommy tell you not to go out of house after bed time? Now, you are going to learn what happens when you wander off at such places after dark, pretty boy." Pointing his wand at my face, he started, "avad-" when blinding red and orange light appeared straight above us and took shape of a Phoenix. The Phoenix itself flew out of the flames seconds later and swinged right at my attacker making him fall backward. The huge bird swooped in again and attacked the confused death eater, while I felt myself release from the curse, maybe due to the distraction of person who casted it. Jumping to my feet, I ran to my wand and cast a spell at my attacker, who now lay writhing on the ground, stunning him into stillness. The Phoenix, Fawkes I think, flew off him and sat smoothly far ahead on a tree where now I could see two shadows appeared out of nowhere. They sped towards me and I realized they were Lupin and tonks, hurrying towards me with wands in their hands. Reaching my side, both pointed their wands at the stunned death eater while eying me, Tonks asked, "Are you OK, Bill?" "I am fine. How did you both found out I was attacked?" "Fawkes. She keeps an eye on the things here and saw the intruder sneak up on you. Sent us both a word and then returned here to help. Hope she was on time?" Lupin replied, making the last part like a question, eying the bruises on me while mending the wall which was vandalized by the fight. Trying to take his attention off me, having no intention to have them or mom fuss over me, I answered while eying the man on ground who was now getting tied up in thick ropes from the tip of tonks' wand, "Just in time, actually. Are you taking him to Dumbledore?" "Yes, he is expecting us in a few minutes. I believe we were not the only ones she informed. Wingardium leviosa." As the tied up death eater's body floated in the air, Tonks turned her concerned eyes on me and asked, "You look quite beat. Let's go and I'll tend you." As I walked a bit towards the place where I am allowed to apparate, the pain rattling through my body made the offer tempting enough to say yes, but even as I thought about it, I felt my feet dragging with bone deep exhaustion left after a rush of adrenaline from the fight. I just wanted to go home and crawl in bed and pass out. "Thank you ,tonks but I just want to go home." Even as she opened her mouth to protest, I cut her off by saying, "Please? I know you want to help, but I'll much rather go home. I promise I'll tend them before going to bed though. And if you really want to help, then just send me a letter on what I missed by not going with you both tonight." Still eying me with concern and suspicion, they each took a hand of the death eater and lupin said, "send a word if you need us." Just before they were to turn on the spot to apparate, I said, "Guys, thanks for coming to my rescue. And... Don't tell mom or dad about this. I don't want them to worry without any real reason." With a nod, they turned on the spot and vanished in the air with the death eater, leaving me alone on the dark street. I stood there for a second, feeling up my bruised jaw, maybe a cracked rib or two, cut lip, slightly bleeding forehead, shooting pain in the skull topping it all with exhaustion and pain throughout the body. Fawkes hooted somewhere above me from the tree and looking in the general direction of him I said, "Thanks for saving my life, Fawkes." As I heard her hoot again, answering my gratitude, I spun on the spot to head for my apartment, while preparing myself for a rough night that still remained ahead of me.


	7. Secrets

The chime of clock from living room informed me that it was 3 am in the morning, which made it whole 2 hours since I have been sitting here, trying to write a letter to my mother. The blank parchment lying in front of me, and many others rolled up at my feet, though, told me that it was a lost cause. No matter how much I tried, I won't be able to concentrate on it when the whole of focus was trained on catching any noise from the other side of my bedroom wall. But so far, everything at there was as quiet as the night outside my window, not even a breath of wind rustling the trees. Giving up on the letter, I got up from my desk, deciding to lie down and try to fall asleep. As I turned towards my bed, however, I accidentally brushed the desk, rattling it a little, and immediately reminded me of the night when the boggart had jumped out of it and my helpful neighbour had come to my rescue. Damn. Just when I decide not to think about him, something happens to remind me of the real reason why I was awake at 3 am in the morning. Bill wasn't home yet, just like he wasn't last night and the whole day today. Admittedly, this wasn't the first time he had stayed the night out since I moved here, but something about his absence tonight sent an uneasy shiver down my spine. It was probably nothing. He might have decided to visit his family for the weekend or, maybe had a special someone he wanted to spend whole weekend, both day and night, with. The last thought sent a painful stab through my chest for reasons I refused to analyze at the moment. Sitting on my bed, I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck, which was prickling with unease. It scared me, how much I cared about him, wanted him to be safe, in just a week. I knew I was attracted to him, but feeling attraction was not a new experience for me. This worrying, waiting up all night just to make sure he was safe, however, was unlike anything I have ever experienced before. Something that I didn't like, but unable to help anyways. For no apparent reason, I felt agitated, on the edge, having the urge to pace around the room, restless. Heaving another sigh, I shook my head and resolved to put all thoughts and worries, of my handsome boss slash neighbour out of my head and grab some much needed sleep before going to work. I got up from bed and walked out of the room to the kitchen, determined to wash the knot of worry down my throat, and go straight to sleep.

I hadn't taken two sips, however, when I heard faint footsteps ascending the stairs. With a booming heart, I quickly walked up to the door, pressing my ear to it, and heard the footsteps on the tiled floor of corridor now. I waited, straining to hear him walk inside and close his door, but what I heard was a clattering sound of something, maybe a stick or wand and his swear. What got me hurriedly grab my wand and undo my protective spells to open the door, though, was his paint filled groan and a hissing of breath that would have been impossible to hear had the night not been this quiet. Just as I wretched my door open, he opened his, ready to walk in, but paused at the doorway and peered over his shoulder at me. I saw a spark of surprise in his blue eyes, before he angled his head away from me, and without turning around asked, "Good eve- or rather, morning, Fleur. What are you doing up so late?" The whole evening of worry and lack of sleep, combined with irritation of him facing away while talking made my voice sharper than I intended, "I could ask you ze same, Bill. What are you doing up and out so late? I mean, Eet's only 'alf past three een ze morning." Angling his head towards me, but still not turning around, he said, "My apologies, if I disturbed your sleep with my late hours. I'll be sure to keep quiet. Go back to sleep, why don't you? And lock the doors good. You really shouldn't have opened it like that at this hour. Haven't I told you, it's not a very safe time?" His words only served to fuel my irritation as I placed my hands on my hips and said, "Oui, I beeleave you 'ave told me zat. But doesn't zat rule apply to you? Shouldn't you be 'ome at zese 'ours and not be out eef times are really zat bad?" My anger seemed to have surprised him, for he shifted a bit and dropped his wand on the floor with a clatter again. Only when I heard his almost quiet hiss, though, did I notice how heavily he was leaning on the wooden door frame, his knuckles on the knob white from gripping it tightly, as if fighting to keep the pain at bay. The thought of him in pain drained all the anger from my system, as I rushed towards him unconsciously, and touched his shoulder gently asking,"Everything OK, Bill? Are you alright?" When he didn't answer, I slowly turned him to face me and gasped as I took him in. His forehead was dark red and swollen with dried blood and grim, his lip had a cut with blood still oozing from it, one of his eye seemed to be on it's way of getting swollen and his hand pressing on the left of his chest told me that his ribs have suffered some battering. As I took in his wounded, bleeding, exhausted body, his eyes were trained on my face, no trace of laid back, young man there. He looked older, battered, and utterly beautiful. It was weird, I have never had a thing for injured men, but something about his wounds turned him from a crush worthy, charming boy to brave, strong, matured man worthy of falling in love with. The transition made my stomach flip, and I had a weird urge to kiss every one of his wounds until I had taken away all his pain. Which is the craziest thought I have ever had, the man is battered and obviously in pain, and here I am, getting turned on by his pain and injuries. Pathetic, and sadistic. I blinked and a almost mocking smirk pulled on his lips, "Pretty, aren't they?" All I could do was frown and ask, " 'ow? What 'appened?" Shaking his head, he started to turn away, saying, "Nothing. Good night, Fleur." No way was I letting him go to sleep, knowing his wound needed tending. On instinct, I reached out and caught his arm in a firm hold, catching him by surprise, and said, "Non, you can't go to bed without tending zem. Come, I'll take care of eet, and you." Then without waiting for his reply turned and walked to my door, pulling him carefully with me. With a flick of wand, I closed his door, then mine, placing the charms back after ushering him inside. He protested, but let me drag him to my newly repaired couch and dropped on it as if his legs couldn't hold him any longer. "I really am ok, Fleur. Just very tired. Nothing a good night's sleep won't fix." I ignored his half hearted protests and rushed to the kitchen to retrieve my personal satchel of healing potions that my mother had mailed me months ago when I was selected for the tournament, along with a goblet and a rag cloth.

Sitting beside him, I pointed my wand at goblet and said, "Agumenti" filling the goblet with water. Dipping the cloth in it, I started cleaning the dried blood from his forehead and lips, wiping dirt from his face too. He flinched at first, but sat still all through my ministration, as I applied the essence of dittany on his forehead and back of his head where I found more dried blood and few pieces of stones stuck in his head, his eyes never leaving my face. After tending the wounds on his face, I shifted my focus to his ribs, gently moving his hand away and unbuttoning his shirt. I heard his breath hitch and a tremble went through my hand, making my fingers shake a little. His shirt fell open and my eyes were immediately drawn to a big purple bruise to the left of his chest. With gentle fingers, I traced the wounds and felt his muscles jump, from pain or something else, I wasn't sure. Breathlessly, he uttered, "Cracked. Two of them, if I felt right." Pointing my wand at his ribs, I started to cast a spell when he caught my wrist and asked, "You a healer?" Enjoying his warm fingers wrapped around my wrist too much, I replied, "Non, but I know what I am doing. Trust me." At his questioning look, I explained, "we were taught 'ow to tend wounds and broken bones before coming to 'ogwarts for ze tournament." Releasing my wrist, he sat back, while I whispered, "episkey" first to his cut lip then his ribs, his hiss of discomfort following as the spell worked. Picking up a vial of sluggish yellow gel, I applied it to his purple bruise to relieve the pain. Keeping all the vials away, I swished my wand and the supplies flew back to their places. Turning back to him, I found him staring at my with what could only be want, and maybe a bit awe in his eyes, which he voiced by saying, "I have to say I am surprised, not only by your competence with healing wounds, but also at the fact that you didn't push to know the reason behind them. I had assumed you to be an insufferable curious, Ms. Delacour." Shrugging I replied, "I am curious, but eef you don't want to say, I weel respect your wishes and not push eet. For now." Smiling softly, he said, "Is that so? You should be careful what you promise, Fleur, for I have lots of wishes, not being questioned being least of them." "And what might they be?" I asked, breathless. He replied by moving closer to me, his breath fanning on my lips making me shiver. "You don't want to know that, Ms. Delacour" his eyes trained in my lips. Inhaling his musky scent, I whispered, "You 'ave no idea 'ow much I do." His eyes flew to mine, and cupping my face he whispered in a tortured tone, "I am tired of trying to stay away from you, Fleur; tired of trying to keep you safe. Tell me to stop and I will, because heaven knows, I won't be able to do it myself any longer." I answered by simply moving closer to him, our lips nearly brushing. "You really should stay away from me, Fleur. I am not a very safe person to be with." With only thought of feeling his lips on mine, I said, "I'd rather die zen" and pressed my lips to his. An electrical shiver ran through me, raising goose bumps as his lips slowly and surely moved over mine. I have been kissed many times before, some had made me feel either like a China doll, or the last meal before death. Never have I ever been kissed like this. His lips moved softly over mine, making me melt into a puddle, but firm enough to ignite fire deep in my belly. I moaned when I felt his gentle yet confident tongue trace the seam of my lips, seeking entry, which I gave him gladly. His hand held hairs at the nape of my neck fast, making my scalp tingle, drawing out another moan from me, while his other hand grabbed my leg, pulling me over his lap, straddling him. I knotted my hands in his hairs, pressing myself to him. I have no idea how long we stayed like this, kissing one another senseless, but the ache in me grew to a breaking point and I squirmed, making him break the kiss, panting, his blue eyes almost black with want. Looking into them, I whispered, "Stay?" almost shyly for the first time in my life, to which he replied by lowering me to the couch and lying down beside me, our bodies flush with each other. Taking my wand, he pointed it at my bedroom doorway and said, "accio blanket." The blanket flew out of my room and landed on the back of couch. Spreading the blanket on and about us, he gathered me close, placing his arms around me while having my head on his shoulder. We stared at each other for a few minutes, before I remembered, belatedly, about the wound on chest and asked worriedly, "Your bruise, does eet steel 'urts?" "No, it surprisingly doesn't," he said, seeming just as surprised. Narrowing his eyes playfully at me, he said "Do you possess any other qualities that I am still, foolishly, unaware of?" Feeling light and playful, I pretended to think about it before replying, "Many, actually. What can I say? I am a femme with many talents." Laughing softly, in his rich deep voice, he replied, "Humility being most profound, I am sure." "'umility?" "Yeah. Modesty? Undermining your qualities?" "Oh. Of course. I 'ave lots of zat too somewhere. Along weeth curiosity." Laughing, we fell quiet for a few minutes, both lost in thoughts, before I asked, "Are we really together? Or are we to pretend zis never 'appened?" He exhaled and said, "I might not like the looks those goblins will give us, but I don't think I have it in me to pretend this never happened. What about you? I will understand if you choose the other way. Understand and accept it. Whatever you want." Looking up in his eyes, I replied, "You are not ze only one at ze end of 'is resolve to stay away, you know? Unless.." "Unless what?" "Will you ever tell me ze reason you don't come 'ome at night?" Whatever he saw on my face made him cup my cheek and say, "One day, I will. I promise. But not now, I am not ready to share that, and not just because of these late hours, though that is contributing to it too." Plucking courage, I asked, "Just tell me one theeng though. Ees zere someone who keeps you away so many nights?" I expected him to get offended, but he simply smiled and said, "The only someone keeping me away from home, before tonight is my mum. And today is you. I am raised better than to kiss a girl while have another waiting on me somewhere else, Fleur. If we do this, I need your trust. Will you give me that?" Will I? Even as I thought about it, I knew I trusted Bill with everything in me, even with knowing him for a week. Besides, I understood what he meant, myself not being ready to share the real reason for coming here. I nodded and snuggled closer to him, feeling him kiss my hairs softly, inhaling them. As I drifted to sleep in his arms, for the first time in months, I didn't have any disturbing nightmares about mazes, cloaked figures or dead friends. For the first time in months, I slept in peace.


	8. Thorns

The next morning felt something that came out of a fairy tales. No idea how long I spent gazing at the girl curled up against me, not even minding the bruises and pains from evening before.

At first look, Fleur seemed delecate as a petal, easy to get crushed, something to be protected.

But I knew now that she was the woman that possessed a big heart behind all the fluff and pomp, and bravery unlike I've ever seen in anyone. Protective and caring, with a fierce capacity to love, the only other woman I've seen like that was my mum. As if feeling my gaze on her, she stirred and opened her eyes, giving me a smile that made my heart ache. It wasn't beautiful because of superficial reasons, but because her smile was one of trust and love that filled my chest with contentment. It was in that moment, that I knew without a doubt that this was the smile I wanted to wake up to for the rest of my life. Not wanting to scare her away with my unbridled thoughts, I returned her smile and bent down to kiss her.

For the rest of the month, I almost moved in with Fleur. We quickly developed a routine where she got off the work before me and went home. By the time I would get home, I had warm food and warmer embrace waiting for me. We would eat and talk, she would tell me how she spent the rest of her day, her family, her schooling and anything else there was to know about her. In return, I would tell her about my family, my work in Egypt, growing up as eldest of six sibling and anything that I could think of about me without giving out anything mentions of Order. Being with Fleur felt easy as breathing. Not to mention, every night I got to feel those beautiful lips and body beneath mine for hours before we would fall asleep in each other's arms. Things were getting serious between us even after our proclamations, and we both felt it.

Many times in the evening when we were getting closer, both emotionally and physically, I've felt her wanting to say something, but she always held back. Like 2 weeks after the night of the attack we were on her bed after dinner her lips hungrily moving against mine, my tongue exploring and drinking her exquisite taste, when I felt her palm push at my chest. I was shirtless and her warm palm ignited my blood like I've never been touched by a girl before. Pulling back, I gazed lovingly at her face. She looked beautiful, her lips red and slightly swollen from bruising kisses I have been giving her all evening, her robe carelessly thrown at the edge of her bed, the straps of her night gown down her arms like they cannot decide whether to stay up her silky shoulders or slide down. Her silvery blonde tresses were messed up and the satin blue nightgown was pulled up to her slim thighs where my hand was exploring her soft skin just a minute ago.

I expected her eyes to sparkle like sapphires in the dark with mischief like it generally did when we were in the middle of a heavy snogging session, but her eyes were serious, hesitant. "What's wrong love? You're okay?" I asked breathlessly.

Swallowing, she started, "Oui, I'm okay. Beel I wanted to talk to you about sometheeng."

One of the most enchanting things about Fleur was that she knew exactly what she wanted and had no qualms going after it. She wasn't the type to shy away or be bothered by being judged. I had found that out when Noles, the goblin at the reception, found us in an empty chamber three days ago stealing a few kisses when we thought rest of them were off for lunch. Even his look of pure disdain didn't make her cringe. Instead, she raised her eyebrow and walked out with her head held high and her hand firmly clasped in mine, not slightest bit intimidated or ashamed. Looking at her now, seeming so hesitant and unsure made something move in my chest.

Hitching her leg further up my hip, I pulled her closer and pressed my naked torso flush against her scantily clad one. Cupping her face I asked, "What is it, love?"

"Beel, zer is sometheeng I wanted to say to you..." "Yeah? I'm listening."

"Beel ze theeng iz, I came 'ere-" but just then we were interrupted by a tap on her window as a majestic owl perched on her sill holding a thick stack of papers in its beak. And just like that, the moment was broken.

I felt her pull back, and not just physically, and no matter how much I asked, she wouldn't tell me what it was she wanted to tell me, just saying, "maybe later, Mon Cher" instead.

I didn't push it because lord knew I had plenty of things I should tell her, but couldn't.

I tried speaking to dad about this - telling mum about Fleur was out of question, unless I wanted her barging in here very next day - but with the stress of Order and pressure from ministry, he always seemed exhausted these days, making me feel guilty to even consider laddening him with burden of my secret lovelife.

But I have to. It was now one and a half month since that first night I decided I will stop fighting my feelings for this girl, and the only thorn in our blissful life was my regular disappearance... and Tonks.

While Fleur didn't ask me anything about the times I had to disappear few nights a week to keep guard outside the ministry, her understanding was not extended to the fact that it was always Tonks who showed up to take on guard duty with me.

Nymphedora Tonks had been a friend since both of us were in Hogwarts, so when mum mentioned earlier this year that tonks is going through a tough time and needed a friend, I was more than happy to volunteer to keep her company.

Now everytime Fleur's eyes shot fires at unsuspecting Tonks, I cringed internally. I knew she trusted me, but also knew that trust wasn't extended to tonks' large, grateful smiles and clumsiness that more often than not made me have to steady her.

That day started innocently enough, with me waking up holding in Fleur in my arms, her willowy figure pressed tight against me. We headed to the bank together, holding hands, both of us feeling comfortable and glowing with happiness despite Noles turning his crooked, gnarly nose up at us.

I remembered the warning Ragnok had given me months ago, knew I was nearly jeopardizing the chances of goblins joining our side, but I still couldn't make myself stay away from Fleur.

Just as we were about to enter our work chamber, there was a loud crash at the entrance and turning I saw a large pot of plant near the entrance was toppled along with a pink haired tonks, profusely apologizing the goblin she had knocked over along with her.

I had told her not to come here unless there was an emergency, so I rushed towards her leaving Fleur's hand without a thought in my haste, urgency filling me up.

"I'm so sorry, Sir. Here I'll fix this for you." Tonks was saying to the disgruntled goblin. She removed her wand with such force though, that it's tip knocked the goblin's hat off his head doing more damage than good. "Oops I'm sorry!" Reaching them I placed my hand on hers to stop her fumbling before she killed someone with her kindness.

I whipped my wand out and muttered, "reparo" undoing the damage caused to the pot. I pulled Tonks on her feet and she gave me a grateful smile, that quickly vanished as she looked something - someone - right behind me. I felt her presence before her palm pressed small of my back, her gaze fixed on my hand on tonk's hip. We quickly pulled back as if burned by each other, and of course, that made tonks knock into the guard on other side.

Sighing, I decided to focus on the problem at hand - Tonks - first and asked in what I hoped was a calm voice, "Tonks, is everything okay? What you doing here so early in the morning?" Unaware of tension that made my the quarter veela taut as a string Tonks replied, "Wotcher Bill! Oh yeah, everything is okay. Your mum sent me here to let you know that today -" her dark brown eyes shifted to Fleur for a second before she cleared her throat and said, "- to come help her shopping groceries." Shopping groceries was the code for unplanned Order meetings.

Past few weeks, Death eaters had doubled their efforts in recruiting followers for the Dark Lord and whenever someone refused to join they would mysteriously disappear within a few days. These impromptu meetings were held when someone would disappear and hopefully to figure out a pattern among them so that we could do something to save the next ones.

I knew I had no choice but to leave, and so I apologetically turned to Fleur. Her flashing eyes told me she knew I wasn't being honest with her, but true to her word she didn't ask.

Doesn't mean she liked it. I knew she hated the idea of me leaving with tonks. Soon, I thought. Soon, I'll talk to dad and reveal everything to her.

I didn't know what will happen once I told her of my involvement with the order, if she'll not want anything to do with me or not once I had. But I have to tell her. Choice should be hers. But not today.

Turning to Tonks I said, "Give me a minute, will you? I have go inform at the office I'll be taking rest of the day off?"

"Sure," Tonks said in a hollow voice. Compassion filled me up at the sadness in her voice. Tonks had always been lively, mischievous and even though I knew reason for it, understood it, I didn't know how to help her.

Tonks' eyes were filled with longing as I walked a little distance away with Fleur. I knew what she wanted - who she wanted - but fleur didn't. And I didn't feel like it was my place to reveal Tonks' secrets to anyone, even if that anyone was Fleur.

Pulling her to me I whispered, "I'm sorry, love I have to go. I hope you understand?" Fleur glanced back at Tonks, then at me and nodded. I so wished I could explain. I wished I could confide in her all my problems and obligations, explain my behavior to her, explain Tonks and her longing looks when she looked at us. Soon, I thought again.

Giving her a gentle peck on lips, I made my way to office, resolving to have the conversation with dad with a day's delay. Lost in my head, I didn't realize Fleur's silence throughout the ordeal. I should've known that her silence was worse than whatever she could've said in that moment.


	9. Declarations

I knew I shouldn't have. But knowing and doing were different things. Crouching down behind a bushy plant, tall enough to hide me behind it, I decided I did trust Bill. It was that pink haired auror I didn't trust.

With a sick feeling in my stomach, I recalled the taunting voices of those goblins today at reception after Bill had left with Tonks.

As I had made my way to the cabin that I shared with Bill, a nasally voice called out, "What happened, Ms. Delacour? All alone today? Where's your boss?" noles' voice grating on my nerves.

"He left, didn't you know he did? With that auror girl again, ofcourse."

"She's an auror?" I asked, before I could stop myself. But really, she was an auror? I didn't have any insecurities about myself, but I did know auror was one of the most dangerous professions in the Wizarding world. I had thought this Tonks woman was some sad, mousy witch with a crush that could barely wave her wand.

To find that she was no mousy, sorry witch with strange hairs and was instead a capable woman that could easily hold Bill's attention... It made me uneasy. A bit.

Sensing that I had chewed the bait thrown at me, Noles and the goblin I didn't know the name of, smirked.

"Oh yeah, mademoiselle. She's an auror. And belonging to a pure blood family, just like our curse breaker here. Very tight she is with his family. His mum and sister just loves precious Tonks, they do." said the unknown goblin, his words pinching my heart for some reason.

"Where do you reckon they went Bogrod?" Noles asked slyly, turning to the other goblin.

"That is anybody's guess Noles, but I would say they would go to that park again. Benedict Park, in Central London. A friend of mine saw them strolling there in the evenings some times on his way out of the ministry. Its always empty after dark..." he trailed off, eying me with barely contained glee.

So yes, I knew I shouldn't have taken their bait, shouldn't have let the plant doubts in my mind. But I didn't trust that girl one bit. I knew Bill would never cheat on me. But that girl? She was in love. An unrequited love, at that. The way she looked at us when we would hold hands, the utter misery that radiated out of her when she would see Bill kiss me... Her sad eyes would fill up with a longing so heartbreaking that had it been for any other man I would've felt sorry for her. But it was for Bill. My Bill. It has to be. So I wasn't taking any chances. Whole day today I had sat at Gringotts, stewing over it.

In my mind I kept replaying Bill leaving with her, along with what those goblins had said.

I had left gringotts at precisely 5 pm, having had to work the whole day in Bill's absence. I wasn't the kind of person who kept every bad feeling within her until it soured everything good in my life. No, I was the one who gave direct answers, asked straight questions and got my problems solved. I knew Bill would clam up if I asked him about leaving or Tonks after he was back. He had done that before. Like, he was holding something back even though he didn't want to. So before I could let myself think it too much about it, I stepped in a quiet corner of diagon alley, thought of the park, and disapparated with a pop.

I had been waiting here for almost an hour now with no sign of life around me. The goblins were right. The park was directly across from the ministry of magic. It was dark now, the night utterly black with clouds so thick that it blocked any light that might try to shine from the sky. The air contained a slight chill. And here I sat, stupidly unequipped for crouching so long in the chilly air. Maybe the goblins were talking nonsense. I knew they disliked humans, and they looked down on me even more because of my veela heritage. Maybe this was some sick joke they played on me just to get momentary joy out of it to see me suffer.

Just as I was about to give up and disapparate back to diagon alley and go home though, I heard snap of twigs in a distance, as two figures appeared out of thin air and started walking across the park.

Bill

Something was off. Something very wrong. I could feel it in the pits of my stomach but I didn't know what it was. Hopefully, Fleur was okay. It wasn't like she wasn't used to being on her own. But that didn't make me stop worrying. The meeting was... depressing. Sirius and Snape spent all the time shooting down every suggestion the other made, with every bit of hatred possible. After hours of sitting around trying to understand pattern among these disappearances we all left with our minds cluttered, frustration and a surly Sirius throwing venomous looks at Snape.

Walking with Tonks wasn't as cheerful as it used to be either. For one, she was just as frustrated as rest of us. And two, she wasn't her usual spunky, happy self lately. I knew I needed to talk to her. So clearing my throat I started, "Did you talk to him, Nymphedora?" using her first name that she hated with passion.

"Don't call me Nymphedora," she replied, out of habit and without her usual fire. Sighing, I stopped at the place with taller plants to stay hidden from anyone exiting from ministry across the road, and caught hold of her hand to stop her as well. "Look Tonks, I know it's not easy. I cannot even imagine loving someone and them pushing me away like this. But look at what it's doing to you. This is not my Tonks. Not the tonks I know and love." "You're right, Bill. You don't understand. And for your sake, I hope you remain ignorant forever." she replied in a weak voice. She looked so small and sad, her hairs drab brown instead of the usual pink, bruise-like shadows below seemingly dead eyes, filled with a world of pain. I did the only thing I could think of at that moment. I hugged her tight to me, wishing I could take all her heartache away. Just as I felt her relax in my embrace, my eyes lifted instinctively, and I almost didn't believe what I saw. Fleur was standing few feet away, her eyes flashing, her face taut with barely restrained anger. I should've known Fleur wasn't the kind of woman to let something that bothered her slide down so easily. She sought her problems and solved them just to get it over with. But from her look, I knew she heard all the right things but understood everything wrong. I let my arms fall from around Tonks, and stepped away making her turn around and see Fleur in all her fury.

Fleur

"MY Tonks. The Tonks I know and LOVE." I hissed, throwing his words back at him. I couldn't believe what I had just heard. Here I thought I could trust Bill. My Bill. But he had a my Tonks all along? I expected him to look guilty. But narrowed eyes and angry tone was not something I had anticipated. "What are you doing here, Fleur? Did you really come to spy on me? Do you not trust me?" "Oui I deed trust you, Beel. Moi come 'ere because I deed not trust 'er. But Dios I cannot trust you too. Tu.. Tu tell 'er all theese? Eef tu loved 'ere theen what you teenk you are doing with moi?" I realized my accent was getting heavier, and stinging in my eyes said I was about to burst into tears. And to make matters worse, it was Tonks who protectively stepped in front of Bill, and started, "Look Fleur you're getting this all wrong."

"All wrong? All wrong you say? What I heard, and saw ees all wrong? I do not weesh to talk weeth tu, Tonks."

"Oh but you have to understand -" without letting her complete, I turned my back to both of them. I knew I won't be able to control my tears any longer. And I did not wish for either of them to see me break.

"Non," I said dismissively. "What he needs to understand ees, eet ees over." "Fleur! Fleur?" Bill's voice rang out with shock at first and then pain. It was enough for me to turn around, run to him and forget everything that happened. I knew I was being harsh - rash - but something was happening to me. Something unbearably painful moving around in my chest that was about to come out any second. Bill's betrayal hurt, but what hurt more was the realization that I will not be able to look at his handsome face ever again without feeling this stabbing pain in my chest. Pain evoked by the knowledge that he was no longer mine, maybe he never was. That last thought made a sob escape me. "No. No, love don't -" he sounded closer, much closer than I had anticipated. So close that I could almost feel the heat of his body on my back.

I was weak; weak for him. I have to leave. Escape before he touched me or I'll shatter in front of them. And last thing I wanted was to be a sobbing mess.

I knew I couldn't disapparate so close to ministry. So I made a run for it. Running in the same direction Bill and Tonks had just walked from. I nearly made it outside the park boundary when I felt a warm hand clasp my elbow and whip me around. Thrown off balance, my back crashed against a painfully familiar chest. Without waiting for me to gain balance, Bill put his arm around my waist and pressed me gently to the trunk of a nearby tree. The smell of daisies filled my senses from nearby plants and he pressed his front to my back, effectively immobilizing me. "Listen to me love, give me a chance to explain," he pleaded softly, too close to my ear, with pain in his voice. I was glad I was faced away from him, so he cannot see the tears dripping from my eyes as my heart lurched in my chest.

"Let me go, beel. Let go."

"I cannot, love. I really cannot. I cannot let you walk out of here, or my life. Cannot bear it. Can't you see? Can't you see how desperately in love I am with you?" I stopped struggling, and it became difficult to breath. I felt his lips press on my shoulder as he breathed me in, seeming to struggle just as much for the next breath as I was. "I cannot let you go, Fleur. Cannot lose you. Cannot imagine going home everyday and not have you waiting for me. Cannot imagine waking up in the morning and not having you beside me, giving me the most beautiful, most trusting smile ever directed at me. Cannot imagine falling asleep without the feel of you in my arms." He continued, sounding choked, whispering against my shoulder. His lips travelled up, up the curve of my shoulder to my neck as he trailed his nose against it, his hand no longer holding me in place. But I didn't move. Couldn't, even if I wanted to. His hand on my waist tightened fractionally pulling me closer to him, closer enough that I could feel every thud of his heart, every shiver that ran through his body. He pressed his lips on my neck, then trailed them ticklishly to the sensitive spot between my neck and shoulder, his breath fanning over my flesh as he spoke. "There is no one else, love. Can never be. I'm too besotted by you, hopelessly so, to even think of anyone else." Slowly, he turned me around, his bright blue eyes taking in my tear-stained face. He pressed my back to the tree, pressing entire length of his body to mine, igniting my blood. I could feel every muscle on him, every twitch and shift making me breathless. Cupping my face, he tilted my face up to him, and looked me straight in the eyes, right into my soul. "I'm in love with you, Fleur Delacour. Crazily, hopelessly so. And I do not think, I'm strong enough to survive without you. So I give my body, my heart, my soul... my life, everything to you. Whether you take it or not, it'll stay yours, forever." looking at him, I felt something mend and break in my chest at the same time. I replied him, in the only way I could with a lump in my throat. I kissed him.

Closing my eyes, I gave everything I had to him in that fragile moment. My heart, my soul... every dream, every thought, my trust everything belonged to him now. And I knew I couldn't take it away from him even if I tried. It came clear as a crystal to me that I trusted him. With my heart, my soul, my life. Trusted his truths, his lies. Trusted his secrets, his love... Every word that came from him.

He kissed me back with equal fervor, pouring every pain, every bit of love into it. His tongue swept in my mouth, marking me as his, as I forgot time, place... everything except Bill. My hands desperately pulled at him, drawing him closer as my leg snaked up his thigh, pressing myself intimately to him. He answered my flame with the fire of his own, pressing his most intimate part to mine, letting me know his desire for me, setting my blood on fire. Our teeth clashed and I broke the kiss to let out a soft moan as his hand explored every inch of my body he could reach. He drew my leg higher up his thigh, pressing me harder against the tree as his lips travelled the length of my neck, leaving gentle bites in its wake. His desperate fingers clawed at my neckline, exposing my shoulder, leaving small scratch marks there, which he soothed with his tongue.

My hands clutched his hairs, they weren't in a hair-tie today. Just as I was about to bring his lips to mine, get lost in the taste of him, we heard a small hissing creak coming from bark of tree pressed against my back, making both of us pause. I opened my eyes in confusion, and noticed my breath, fast as it was, was fogging up, coming out misty. The temperature around us had suddenly dropped, and steadily kept on dropping as the branches hanging down from the trees froze, the small daisies surrounding us, frosting over.

As one, we glanced up at the sky to see a flock of cloaked figures gliding over the clouds, making the dark night darker, for more that one reason. Before either of us could make sense of the horrifying scene above us, a shrill scream pierced the dead quietness of the night, as Bill turned his horrified eyes towards me and whispered, "Tonks.." and took off in her direction.


	10. EXPECTO PATRONUM!

Bill

My face stung with cold as I ran across the park, but it was nothing compared to the cold coursing inside my chest... My whole body. How could I do it? How could I forget Tonks? The reason we were there... everything? There was no excuse to my selfishness. So lost was I in fleur that I didn't even notice when the chill of the air turned ice cold.

Whipping my wand out I neared the place I last saw Tonks and instead found the cloaked backs of dementors, dark as pure misery, advancing on her. Usually tonks with a wand in hand and that expression looked intimidating, but today she looked small, fragile. Like the little girl I used to know from Hogwarts. No matter how she looked though, her expression was one of a warrior in a battle. Brave and focused. "Expecto patronum!" I uttered, causing a thin, sheen of Patronus shield appear at the tip of my wand. Blimey! There were atleast 10 or so dementors around us.. But why? As I thought about it my eyes flickered to ministry of magic. Ofcourse. Ministry had dementors stationed around perimeter of the building.

That's why we were told not to roam around for long. Mad eye's warnings rang in my head. "Constant vigilance!" he'd barked. "try spending as less time outside the ministry as possible if you want to avoid attracting attention of more things than what you bargained for." he had curtly told us.

My mind unfocused with fear as it was, the partonus I casted wasn't strong enough to drive them away, but it was strong enough to cause the diversion I needed and few of them turned towards me.

Finding a gap between three dementors circling closest to Tonks, I pounced and managed to land close to her. "Tonks! You alright?" I asked getting to my feet and going back-to-back with her. Having her back, like I should've had since the beginning.

"Don't worry about me, worry about them." Patronus was only way to get rid of them. So in unison we yelled, "Expecto patronum!" My shield transformed from just a thin sliver of barrier to a roaring lion. The silvery, glowing lion chased across the park scattering and driving dementors away as he went. It's roar didn't have a sound, but it was enough to pierce through the darkness these filthy creatures were spreading. As I focused my mind completely on driving my Patronus as farther as possible, something caught my eye. It was only a second, maybe even less, that my focus shifted to Tonks as she produced her Patronus, a wolf. A very ill looking wolf.

The weak, sliver of glow emitting off it was giving it faint, sickly look. It wasn't enough for the four dementors charging towards her.

I was about to turn my wand towards her to help but a third Patronus appeared between Tonks and the dementors.

A bird of some kind with pointy beak flew right in cutting off an advancing cloaked figure.

It was in that moment that I lost focus, and when the attack came, it came viciously.

Fleur

I saw Bill run across the park and couldn't help but run after him. Knowing he was heading towards danger, I couldn't hold myself back and rushed across the park after him. His long legs carried him faster than I could follow so when I reached there panting, I saw Bill and Tonks were back-to-back, surrounded by dementors from all sides, their wands out and glowing silvery in the dark. He was intently focused on his Patronus, silver lion chasing dementors across the grounds.

Pride filled me at the sight of him. It wasn't until that moment that I realized I respected him just as much as I loved him. Now filled with awe, I acknowledged how much in love I was with Bill, whole of him. His bravery, courage, tenderness, love.. even his secrets. His running towards the danger to save someone, instead of away from it. My heart felt light, and heavy all at the same time. There was nothing I wanted more than to keep him safe with me. But there wasn't anything less I'd love him for than to be who he was.

Speaking of saving, I glanced at Tonks and saw she wasn't doing so well. Her patronus looked like very faint, sick dog that wasn't even strong enough to stand straight much less drive about 4 dementors gliding towards her with clawed hands. Whipping my wand out, I closed my eyes for a second and remembered the day my little sister was born. Filled with immeasurable love and happiness, I casted my patronus, a veela in its bird form that glided towards Tonks.

Being third generation veela, my bird was the size of a large crow or a small eagle. Nevertheless, it did the trick and cut through one advancing dementor, making him cringe and change direction. Tonks shot me a thankful look before turning back towards her attackers. As I went to cut off path of another dementor, I suddenly felt something off.

Before I could blink, the first dementor I had warded off changed direction suddenly and sweeped towards Bill unnoticed, who's eyes met mine for fraction of a second, before he roared and fell on his knees.

Pain like nothing I've felt ever before sliced through me. My bill was hurt, the thought circled me as I ran towards him. He picked up his wand and produced another lion but even from my distance I could tell it won't do much good. It was barely visible, his arm that welded wand was shaking as dementors circled him from all sides.

My eyes searched for Tonks, but she was lying down few feet away, wand out of her hand trying to reach it. Confused, I realized Bill had physically pushed her out of the way and was now holding the attention of all the creatures.

I could tell he was drained, getting even more tired as I watched, while directing his Patronus around him keeping dementors at bay. It wasn't enough. They would attack him. I lifted my wand and produced veela again, but two dementors blocked me from reaching him. Try as I might to penetrate them and reach Bill, but my divided attention wasn't doing my Patronous any good.

Just as I saw another dementors swooping behind Bill, catching him unaware and making him roar with agony again; making his Patronus dim to barely a wisp of light now, something in me snapped.

Stopping in my tracks, I felt a trickle of tear slip my eye as his declaration of love to me from just few minutes ago replayed in my head. That feeling, unlike anything I'd ever felt, seemed to reach out of my heart, like an entity of its own.

I wasn't quite sure what happened next, but one minute my veela was flying towards two dementors who were deftly dodging it, and another minute it turned into huge ball of silver emitting glow that could've rivaled the full moon on a darkest night. Suddenly the wings of my bird dissolved in a shimmer of light and its claws became huge, pointed.. more lethal. They hit the ground with a seemingly heavy thud, and grew until it was big. Almost as big as me. I shield my eyes for a second, unable to keep them open and when I looked back, my small veela bird had changed. Turned into a huge, majestic lioness.

She stood, shaking her head and hunching down ready to pounce, tensing its stance and growling at the cloaks of darkness who has now glided a few feet away from the scene. Tonks paused mid-crawl on her way to her wand, and watched as Patronous growled, gnashing it's silvery teeth at the ones who tried harming its mate. With a roar of her own, she charged ahead, reaching all around, circling Bill who now lay on his back, his lion hunched at his feet, watching in awe but unable to move.

As the charging lioness, guided by the tip of my wand, drove the last of cloaked figures out of the park, Bill took a deep sighing breath and closed his eyes. My heart stopped and I ran to him, falling to my knees beside his body.

It was then that I noticed two things; first, that though he had a faint smile playing on his lips, he shook with violent shivers that wracked throughout his body. And second,his eyes weren't closed. They were tiny slits as he watched my Patronus walk up and nuzzle the silvery lion's glowing mane that rested near his feet, their glow chasing away the last of the darkness that had spread tonight.


	11. One

FLEUR

The shutting of our apartment door sounded louder than it normally did as I helped Bill in. Cold shivers still ran through him, but he felt stronger than he did two hours ago. Atleast he was carrying his own weight, because there was no way I could support him all on my own.

Neither of us spoke as we made our to the bedroom, my wand lightening up half burnt candles along the way. After driving last of the dementors away, Tonks had limped up to us and helped me pull Bill to his feet, the three of us together had quickly walking off the park.

Bill was reluctant to leave Tonks' side once we apparated to a secluded road and he led us to a shabby looking house, where an older looking man with light brown hairs and gray flecks answered the door. He seemed hesitant at first, his gaze lingering on Tonks with concern, but once Bill filled him in on our night so far, his hesitancy dissolved and he looked angry and vigilant, his gaze sweeping protectively over Tonkd.

He offered to take us all in but Bill simply shook his head, and gazed deep in the older man's eyes, like having a silent conversation, and muttered, "thanks Remus." before disapparating to diagon alley and leaving Tonks there at his doorstep.

His arm slipped off my shoulders, bringing me to the present, as he dropped on the bed, and closed his eyes. I stood helplessly near the bed, not knowing what to do to help him. He wasn't physically wounded, but he looked so forlorn and exhausted that I wanted to crawl inside him and take all his troubles away. Another shiver wracked through him and I leapt to action, deciding on cook something warm for him.

Quietly moving to kitchen, I readied ingredients for chicken broth. Just as I was about to flick my wand to light up the stove, I felt his presence behind me.

Turning, I was about to send him off to bed but he stood closer than I had expected, making me stumble back to the counter.

His arm reached out, wrapping around my waist, not necessarily to steady me, as he pulled himself even closer to me, our fronts nearly touching, but not quite. My breath quickened, mingling with his, and my skin felt too tight on my bones . His bright blue eyes seemed to be burning with something, some emotion I couldn't read as he brushed my lips with his. His breath fanned over me as he asked, "why did you leave me back there so cold and alone?"

My voice was husky when I replied, "moi came to make tu some soup.. To warm you up.."

If possible, he stepped even closer to me, pressing me back against the counter and whispered, "there are better ways to warm me up, Fleur." With that, he pressed his lips to mine, kissing me like the world was ending.. Or beginning. His tongue explored my mouth, as if getting reacquainted with it. I vaguely remember my wand clattering to the floor and Bill lifted me up and carried me to bedroom, the chicken broth behind me long forgotten.

BILL

Pain.. Loss... Fear.. Guilt. Every one of those feelings still lingered in me as I closed my eyes in the bedroom, momentarily reliving our encounter with the dementors. Shudders wracked through me as I remembered the moment my father described how Ginny, my sister, was taken into the chamber of secrets few years ago, how Ron nearly died at his first year of Hogwarts, mom's boggarts... Everything.

Dementors made you relive your worst memories and nothing came close to it than losing my little siblings that I loved more than words. Shudders wracked through me and I opened my eyes, looking for the person who could warm my ravaged soul, but she wasn't there. Desperation took over me and I stood up, forgetting my weakened state as I scanned the room looking for fleur. I needed her. Just the sight of her was enough to warm my entire being, my soul, everything. My breath sped up as I exited the bedroom. I could hear my heartbeats in my ears as I searched the apartment as if my life depended on finding her. And maybe it did. Just as I was about to call out loud, I caught sight of her silvery mane of hairs near the stove. Unable to help myself I barged in and stood close to her, letting her warmth drive the cold fear away. Sensing my presence, she turned and stumbled back. The next few minutes are blurred to me since all I could think of was to get so close to her that nothing ever gets to be between us. I carried her to my bedroom, devouring her lips, my hands roaming around, exploring all her luscious curves that I was familiar with, but they somehow seemed anew. Slipping her thin cardigan off her shoulders, I revelled in the soft feel of her skin, my rough fingertips grazing over every exposed bit of her flesh.

She did the exploring of her own, her small but sure hands slipping my coat off my shoulders and unbottoning my shirt. Before long, we were both naked waist up, our frantic hands desperate to feel each other.

Another shudders wracked through me as I recalled nearly losing her just few hours ago, and I pushed her back, going along with her on the bed, and laying on top of her. Nothing about us was gentle today. She firmly tightened her grip on my hairs, pulling me closer to her and devouring my lips while I roughly pushed her dress down her hips, vaguely hearing something tear.

Her skin felt satiny smooth wherever I touched, and I felt addicted to the feel of her pressed beneath me. She moaned in my mouth when I touched her sensitive spots and pushed my pants down, leaving me as bare to her as she was to me.

My lips travelled down her body, nibbling her soft curves, her breathless groans encouraging me. I suckled her breasts, while my fingers explored the most sensitive part of her that made her grip tightened painfully on my hairs.

We were no strangers to each other's bodies by now, but today felt different. Like, we were somehow binding ourselves to each other. I pulled back slightly, to gaze deep into her eyes as my body connected with her's in the most intimate way possible, both of us saying things with our touches that our words never managed to.

Sweat trickled down my back and her mouth opened in a wordless plea as I pushed myself deeper into her body, her soul. She responded by wrapping her legs around me, both of us chasing something without knowing what.

Pressure built in me and I buried my face in the crook of her neck. Her teeth sunk into the flesh of my shoulder as she gave in to the sensations and that was my undoing. With a loud groan, I collapsed on top of her, promising my body, my heart.. my life to her and claiming all of her's for me in that single moment.


	12. Arthur Weasley

BILL

The snow crunches beneath my boots as I made my way to the Burrow. Walking always helped calmed me, helped me think clearly. And I needed it as clear as possible for the conversation I was about to have.

It's been nearly four months since Fleur and I had been together. And while it had been the most beautiful time I have ever had, the secrets I kept from her weighted heavy on my heart.

While Fleur knew almost everything there was to know about me, she also knew there were some secrets she still wasn't privy of.

At first, I was worried that she might think I was a part of some dark, shady business, or worse, was one of the death eaters. But her continuous support and faith in me soon made me realise that she was just patiently waiting for me to include her in my secret, even though patience wasn't generally in her virtue.

I knew it bothered her that I was hiding a huge part of my life from her, and so wanted this secret to be over with. Even though we had only met few months ago, I knew she was the woman I wanted to spend my life with.

She was everything I had ever wanted, and so much more. Even though she seem like a delicate flower, in reality possessed an iron strong will and heart of a lioness. Brutally honest, there was never any guessing games with her. She said it like she saw it, instead of saying things just to please others. There really was never a dull moment with her.

That was the reason I was going home today. I wanted to let my parents know about the amazing girl I had in my life and I had to let Fleur know everything about me. Keeping secrets from her killed me everytime I looked into her trusting eyes.

With front door in sight, I walked around the yard, towards the garage that dad used as his mini-experiment lab. While mom was the one who ran the Weasley household with an iron fist, it was always our dad we went to with our problems. He was the calm and rational one, always understanding and supporting us in every difficult situations we had ever found ourselves in.

Over the years, dad and I had developed a comfortable friendship that strengthened our bond more so than others. I had always looked upon him as my role model. It was a given that if there was a problem that I cannot solve, dad was sure to have an answer to it.

Taking a deep breathe, I knocked on the open garage door and my father's slightly balding head jumped up from behind a pile of ancient looking radios, startled. "Oh! You scared me there, William. For a moment I thought it was your mum."

I chuckled lightly, taking in the red and green wires strewn on his working table. "Don't you have the guard duty tonight? It's an exhausting work even with Harry's invisibility cloak on, isn't it? Maybe you should rest a bit instead of breaking your own department laws here."

He loved all things muggle. He'd get whatever muggle gadget he could get his hands on, bring it to his den and take it apart to see how it worked. It was lucky he worked at the ministry or his own department would arrest him for tinkering with muggle articles.

Ignoring my comment, he eyed me and bowed his back to his latest project, and asked, "something on your mind, Billy?" Even though we considered our mother as someone who never missed a trick when it came to her children, our father was the subtly observant one, who could easily read us, even though he preferred to act ignorant.

Taking a seat next to him, I fiddled with a small screw that was laying close to me, and said, "I... I met someone."

He gave me a sidelong glance that said, "just met?" Taking a deep breathe, I continued, "her name is Fleur. Fleur Delacour. You might have heard of her from tri-wizard tournament? She works part-time with me at gringotts."

I looked up at my father's face to see a faint smile stretched on his face, but he kept his eyes on the shambles that was once a muggle radio, not wanting to make me self-conscious. And I was grateful, because friend or not, there were some things that were difficult to explain to your father.

Clearing my throat I continued, "I know it hasn't been long since we've known each other, but dad, I know she's the one."

Finally my father looked up at me with a broad smile and sparkling eyes and replied, "when do we get to meet her?"

And that's why I had sought him to reveal this information to instead of my mother. I breathed out a relieved laugh, before replying, "whenever you want dad. I was thinking to bring her home for Christmas. So everyone can meet her."

At this he paused and eyed me with confusion. "Home? We are spending Christmas at Grimmauld place this year, Bill. But that's okay I think, Sirius will not mind another guest..."

Dad trailed off, correctly reading the expression on my face. A few moment's of silence later dad sighed and said, "maybe you should talk to her before anybody has to talk to your mum, son."

Fleur

The jiggle of keys and door unlocking alerted me of Bill's return as I wrapped up my letter to my mother, sealing it with my wand before tucking it away.

I had come home after my shift at Gringotts alone today as Bill had taken a half day off to visit home.

Looking at him standing at door, shrugging out of his heavy winter coat, I was once again overwhelmed by the love I felt for this man. Even though his continual disappearances and unexplained "businesses" worried me, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

It still bothered me that he kept a part of his life hidden. I felt like he didn't trust me enough even though rational part of me was self-assured that this was not the reason for his continued secrecy.

Putting all the unsavory thoughts out of my mind, I walked over to wrap my arms around him. He looked exhausted, and my heart melted, forgetting all the insecurities and secrets.

God, I loved this man with every beat of my heart. The same love I could see shining from his beautiful blue eyes. This was why I kept a rein in my temper when it came to his secrecy.

Pressing a delicate kiss on his lips, I felt his muscles loosen a bit, and I pulled back cupping his face in my hands. " 'ow was your day, amour?"

Instead of replying, his arms around me tightened and he gave me a kiss that left me breathless. Lifting his head, he said, "it's much better now."

I had learnt long ago that Bill wasn't shy to show his affection towards me anymore than I was to him.

Despite goblins throwing nasty looks at us, we strolled to the bank holding hands, without a care of the world. He didn't mind when goblins would barge in our cabin unannounced, and wouldn't pull away when we crossed paths with people he knew in and out of the banks.

And frankly, I wouldn't have it any other way. I, too, wasn't the one to shy away from making my feelings clear on anything, be it good or bad. While I was told many times that this might seem rude or unbecoming on a lady, Bill seemed to love these things about me.

As he dipped his head to steal another kiss, I breathlessly murmured, "your dinner-"

"not hungry for food," his arm tightened around my waist and other hand went up and down my back. My own arms were wrapped around his torso, feeling his strong, lean muscles through layers of winter clothing.

For a few breathless minutes, I lost the sense of time and place, as he gently picked me up and carried me to our room, no easy feat considering I was almost just as tall as him.

Laying me down on bed, he broke the kiss, leaving me gasping for air as he nibbled his way through my jaw and neck to the curve of my shoulder, pulling my wrap away to make way for his lips.

It had been 4 months since we moved in together, but the thrill of Bill's lips on my skin was yet to dim.

Before long, his shirt was gone along with my wrap, but I was far from feeling cold with his lithe body covering mine.

His lips travelled to my ears and whispered, "we need to talk about certain things, love." But I was too far lost in the sensations he was evoking that I just breathed, "later." Because even death itself could wait, for all I cared, when I was this close to him.

Just as his hand travelled up my leg, I heard a strange scratching on the window pane. The thought of ignoring it fleeted through my mind, but at that moment Bill turned his head towards the window as well, and his entire body tensed.

"What's wrong?" I asked as he got up and off me, walking towards the window, and opening it. He took the letter from a handsome barn owl's beak, absently saying, "nothing love. It's just one of the Hogwarts owls..."

Hogwarts owl? Who was sending him a letter from his old school at this time of the night? Before I could voice that question, I watched all colour drain from his face and he looked up at me, stricken.

Jumping up from bed, I rushed towards him, laying one comforting hand on his shoulder and other on his cheek. "Bill? What ees happening? What ees wrong, amour?"

For a moment, Bill looked like he was lost in his head, then his horror-struck eyes lifted to mine, and he said, "my dad is in St. Mungo's hospital. He was brutally attacked by a snake."


	13. Disclosures

Fleur

As the last of the mails were sealed and piled neatly onto the desk, I heard Bill enter the office. He had left early for work today, as he had been doing for the whole week now. But was never in the office when I would reach here. He'd skip our lunches and never explained his disappearances, even when I knew he was somewhere within the Gringotts building.

I felt him walk up behind me, but I ignored him and continued flicking my wand and collecting books scattered around in a pile one on top of another, distinctly aware of his gaze on me.

It had been a week since we got the message of attack on his father. After the owl arrived, Bill had tensely dressed, his face pale with worry, and left, assuring me of sending news as soon as he found out what was happening.

5 hours later, he sent me a message through his a glowing lion of his patronus, saying his father was admitted to St. Mungo's hospital and was said to be out of immediate danger, but he planned to remain at the hospital with his mum until he got to meet his father.

It was 2 days later that he had returned home, looking exhausted and dishevelled, and while I was burning to ask him thousands of questions, I had simply inquired his father's health and if there was anything I could do.

It didn't come as a shock to me that he didn't want me to visit his father, but it hurt nonetheless. And he knew it judging by the guilt in his eyes when he said so.

It was a week later now, and I was at work while Bill had excused himself to have his lunch break with Ragnok, one of the goblins, again, his eyes not meeting mine when he said he had some business to discuss with him.

While I wanted to be as supportive as possible, I was at the end of my patience with all these secrecy. He must've sensed the anger in my body by how aggressively I was flicking my wand, because next moment I felt his arms go around my waist and he kissed the spot below my ear, and whispered, "you're angry."

Not one to mince with words, I flippantly replied, "What was your first clue?" Bill sighed, his breathe teasing some of the lose strands of my hair as he nuzzled near my ear and said, "tell me how do I make it up to you."

I turned within the circle of his arms and faced him. Looking deep within his eyes, I asked him first thing that came to my mind, "why do you keep hiding things from me? Don't you trust me, bill?"

Taken aback by my question, he cupped one side of my face and said, "ofcourse I do, love. I'd trust you with my life. Never think like that."

"Then why do you hide everything from me, Bill? I let it go for months, theenking you must not be ready. But why you steel hide all zis theengs from me?" My accent was getting heavier, letting me know how emotional I was getting, but I couldn't help it. The thought of Bill not trusting me felt like a punch in the gut.

"Baby, I don't hide things from you because I don't trust you. I hide it because I can't imagine the thought of putting you in danger. If something happened to you..." he trailed off, as if unable to finish that thought.

I knew he meant well, I understood he was only trying to protect me, but all that knowledge did was fire up my anger. I pushed him off me, and demanded, "protect moi? PROTECT MOI?! I am NOT a delicate flower that needs protection, beel! I can take care of myself. I can protect myself if I need to!"

I drew myself up, finally feeling relief to have made my feelings known. Flipping my hair, I marched past a surprised looking Bill and walked out the office into the corridor. I knew I should be more sensitive and considerate towards him because of the week he's had, but I just couldn't bear to be seen as a delicate flower that needed protecting anymore. Least of all, to Bill.

One of the things I loved about Bill was how he always thought of others, took care of them. And while I didn't want him any different with me, I wanted to be his strength, just as he was mine. Not become a weakness he had to protect and take care of all the time.

As I reached the reception of Gringotts, marching out towards the white marble steps, I felt Bill fall in steps next to mine. But he made no attempt to stop or touch me, silently walking beside.

Outside, the sun was sinking behind the buildings, the last of its purple and red rays painting the sky as we reached home. I marched inside, leaving the door open for him, walking all the way kitchen and grabbing a glass of water.

I felt the need to keep moving, lest I let my emotions completely take over me. Bill patiently waited on the couch in the living room, arms on his knees, silently waiting me to calm down enough to take a seat. When I felt sufficiently calm, I sat on the chair adjacent to him, eyes on the floor, waiting.

He leaned forward, and caught hold of my chin, gently making me look at him. In a deep, resonated voice he started, "I never meant to make you think that I saw you any lesser than I am, love. Neither did I meant to imply in any way, that I thought you were weak. Quite the opposite, actually. I've yet to meet a woman as strong and loyal as you are. And everytime I realise it, I fall just a bit more in love with you."

His words had a desired effect, and I felt the tension seep out of my body. Taking a deep breath, I replied, "eef all zat ees true, then tell me. Because beel I don't know of you, but for moi, you are ze one. I 'ave known eet since I told you about my reason to come 'ere. But eet weel not work eef we 'ave secrets from each other."

Stroking my cheek lovingly, he replied, "I know, love. And I agree. You are the one for me too. And I never want any secrets between us. I had planned to tell you everything a week ago, even talked to my father about it. But then he got attacked and it made me think I was being selfish to pull you into it with me."

Placing my palm on his, that rested on my cheek, I said, "we are een zis together, Amour. I cannot theenk of a life without you. And you keeping all zis from me only makes me more vulnerable, you see?" Taking a deep breath, I looked him square the his eyes and said, "Tell me, Amour. Tell me everything." And he did.

2 hours later, as he concluded talking about how his father got attacked, I was hard-pressed to not jump up and kiss him silly. I reminded myself of what he was talking about, something that has obviously shaken him deeply. But I couldn't stop the pride that filled my chest as I intently listened to him detailing the attack.

Up until that point I only just loved Bill. And who wouldn't? He was a down-to-earth, loving, so wonderfully caring man who always put his loved ones before him. While his appearance and handsome face invited people in, I was more attracted to what lay beneath the skin deep attraction.

But today what I felt rising within me wasn't just the overwhelming love I generally felt for him. It was respect and pride. I was proud of the brave man that sat in front of me, and I was humbled that he saw me as someone worthy of being with someone as brave and kind-hearted as him.

Silence decended around us as he finished talking, and sat gazing at me as if waiting for some kind of judgment. I couldn't think of anything to say to him in that moment. I was worried I would choke like a little girl if I tried to. So I did the only thing I could think of.

I jumped up from my spot on chair, and climbed his lap, startling him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed him deep, trying to tell him everything through it that I cannot find right words to tell him otherwise. I settled myself on his lap, and felt his arms wrap around my waist, a relieved breathe leaving him, as he chuckled on my lips.

I pulled back, and looked him straight in the eye as I said, "I theenk I understand what you meant now." At his confused look, I clarified, "I theenk I fell in love weeth you all over again now. Until now I 'ah thought you were a perfect guy. I cannot 'elp falling more in love with you knowing your brave 'eart. I just feel so lucky to 'ave found you."

Listening to this, he pressed his lips to mine, his arms tightening around me. When we came up for air, he pressed his forehead against mine and closed his eyes in contentment.

"I think I will spend rest of my life falling more and more in love with you everyday, Fleur Delacour." And I knew perfectly well what he meant.

Later that evening, as we sat cocooned in our blankets, wrapped around each other, with your legs tangled and my back resting against Bill's chest, he talked about his family.

I had brief memory of two or three of his younger brothers from when I had spent a year at Hogwarts for tri-wizard tournament, but not enough to remember what they were like.

He ran his nose against the curve of my bare shoulder before kissing behind my ear and saying, "I had planned on us spending the whole holiday with my family, so that you can get to know all of them. But since that couldn't happen, I was thinking of you'd like to go visit my father instead? He's quite looking forward to meeting you. As are Fred and George, though that could be so they could tease the grief out of me too.." he trailed off, chuckling lighting, waiting for my answer.

I let a contented breathe out and replied, "I would love to meet 'im, amour." I felt him take a deep breathe, "and spending time with my family will have to wait until after school is over I suppose.." he seemed to be thinking aloud by now. So I closed my eyes, revelling in the feel of our closeness.

I felt him move behind me as he leaned towards the drawers next to the bed, but his arm that was wrapped around my waist prevented me from moving. After a moment, he relaxed back in his place, and picked my hand again, gently playing with my fingers.

He murmured, "since it seems to be the day of disclosures and revelations, there's something else I was thinking to reveal..." He trailed off.

"Mhm?" I asked, softly encouraging him to continue without opening my eyes.

He was quiet for a few moments, and then I felt something cold and unyielding pass through my fingers, a light weight settling on one. My eyes snapped open, my gaze instantly drawn to our entwined fingers, to see a small diamond sparkling, on a white gold band, with tiny diamonds glittering along the band. It was modest, practical and absolutely perfect.

Lifting my hand up to inspect it closely, I felt both his arms tighten around me, as he pressed his nose in my hair and breathed, "I've been carrying this around for weeks, telling myself that I'd give it to you when I had come clean and you've had time to make a choice. Because you have a choice, love. You always will. But for me, there's no choice, no other except you."

I felt tears well up jn my eyes as I gazed at the most beautiful ring I'd ever seen, and the most loving words that were ever spoken to me.

He continued, "so Fleur Delacour, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife? Becoming my strength where I get weak? Becoming my support when I stumble? Becoming my peace when I am in conflict?"

I turned around to face him and threw my arms around his neck, burying my face in the curve of his neck. He laughed lightly and teased, "I'm left hanging here, you know?" Wiping my eyes, I pulled back, laughing and crying at the same time as I said, "oui. Oui! Yes, of course yes, Bill! Oh I wish I could show you 'ow much I love you!"

His face broke into a huge smile before he narrowed his eyes and smirked, "there are a few way you can show me, you know..."

And so I spent rest of the night showing him just that, intending to do the same for the rest of our lives as well.


	14. The Burrow

Bill

"And, here we are," I smiled at Fleur excitedly as we made our way towards my childhood home, the Burrow.

As the name suggested, it looked like a once large pig-pen had added extra stories at the top. The later additions could easily be spotted because of how crooked the structure was. It looked like the base was awkwardly balancing all the floors and 4-5 chimneys atop it. A jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron lay at the front door.

To some, it might seem like a dilapidated, old house but to me it was the most loving place on earth. I had spend my entire childhood there, and even now found it peaceful to be among my bickering siblings and parents.

I turned my gaze to Fleur, silently reading her expression, trying to gauge what she thought of it.

As we drew near the smell of something baking reached us, and I watched a faint smile grace her lips as she took in her surroundings.

There was not a single trace of judgement in her eyes as she took in several fat brown chickens that were pecking their way around the yard or the house itself, and I fell a little more in love with her to see total acceptance shining through her eyes.

As we were crossing the yard, the front door opened, followed by crash of coat hanger that generally stood right inside the house.

A moment later, Tonks walked out, swinging her cloak about her mumbling apology to someone inside. As her gaze landed on us, she forced a smile and walked towards us, knocking the cauldron near the door on her way. "Ees she always zat clumsy?" Fleur murmured quietly to me, watching a sheepish Tonks making her way towards us.

Generally, I'd have laughed at her clumsiness, but considering how awful she looked, I couldn't bring myself to do that. She had dark purple circles around her eyes and her usually spunky pink hairs were drab brown.

"Wotcher Bill. Hiya fleur." She greeted us half-heartedly.

" 'ello Tonks. I'm alright. 'ope you are well too?" Fleur replied.

"Came to see mum, Tonks?"

"Yeah, it's been a while, and after what happened..." She swallowed hard and Fleur's fingers tightened on mine.

It had been difficult few months for all of us. The dark lord had doubled his attempts of getting the prophecy from department of mystery at Ministry of Magic, and with dad still recovering from the attack, we were short staffed at the Order, working double the time we previously were to stand guard and recruit people towards us.

But the final blow had been the Battle of Department of Mystery. Even though it exposed the truth about the Dark lord's return, it came at a terrible price of death of Sirius that has left us all devastated, especially Harry.

It was shortly after this that Tonks had explicitly let Remus know how she felt about him, only to have him vehemently reject her. All this emotional upheaval had left Tonks so depressed that she had difficulty with her metamorphosis powers.

Remus, on the other hand, had volunteered to try recruiting werewolves to our side. While he claimed he was the only one who could easily do the job considering he was one himself, we all knew his real motivation was to keep himself busy to grieve for his best friend's death and stay away from Tonks. Fleur was shocked when I had shared this with her, one evening.

Few weeks ago

"A werewolf?" She exclaimed, her lovely eyes wide as we ate our dinner. "It's not like what you think, love. Remus is one of the best guys I know. So selfless and brave, I'm not really surprised Tonks fell for him."

"I'm sure 'e ees great, Bill. I'm only surprised because I 'ad thought she liked you!" She confessed, her eyes still wide with shock.

I chuckled before lightly flicking her nose and replying, "Me? Oh love, Tonks had known for a long time that I've got eyes only for you. Just like I have known about her feelings for Remus, and her heartache over him ignoring all the efforts she put to let him know of that. We've known each other since Hogwarts, you see."

Fleur flipped her hair back before taking a bite of her food and replying, "I still theenk she ees being foolish. She can do so much better zan someone who ignores 'er feelings instead of appreciating 'er love!"

Fleur

Present

After briefly talking to Tonks, we entered the house. The inside of the Burrow was very cluttered and disorganised, but welcoming nonetheless. It made me want to wave my wand and clear up some of that, but I controlled my impulse.

It was the first time I was meeting Bill's entire family, and I was quite excited to share the news of our engagement with them, as Bill and his father had informed me that while his mother knew of us being together, it would be much better if we made the announcement of our wedding in person.

As we neared the kitchen, Bill's father Arthur Weasley stepped down a rickety flight of wooden step, his friendly face lighting up when he saw us.

"Bill! You kids are here early! Welcome, Fleur dear. Consider this your own-" before he could finish, we heard two feminine voices talking, their raised voices reaching us before we reached them.

"... But I thought you liked Tonks!"

"Of course I do Ginny, but I can't make her marry Bill any more than I can make Bill love her."

Make Bill love Tonks? My temper flared and Bill's hand tightened on mine, his gaze swinging to his father's with alarm. Mr. Weasley stepped ahead of us, and loudly cleared his throat before saying, "Molly! Look who's here."

Two pair of identical brown eyes swung towards us as we stepped ahead, Bill clutching my hand with one of his while soothingly rubbing my back with his other.

We stepped inside and I tried to stop my eyes from narrowing as it landed of Mrs. Weasley, and who could only be Ginny Weasley. I must've not quite succeeded though, because one of Ginny's ginger eyebrow arched when she met my eyes.

Mrs. Weasley gave a huge smile when she saw Bill and she came forward to give him a hug. Turning to me, she gave what I think is her most friendly smiles before saying, "and you must be Fleur."

Flipping my hairs back, I addressed the short, plump woman with bushy red hairs and smiled, "Oui, eet ees nice to meet you."

We shook hands and Mr. Weasley ushered us in around a long, battered table with mismatched chairs. Mr. Weasley took a seat at the head of the table and Mrs. Weasley asked Ginny to help her with food.

As the rest of Weasley clan slowly filed in the room, eying me curiously, Mr. Weasley kept a constant conversation with us, talking about work, Order business, my family and few other things. Even though I was almost relaxed, I couldn't quite forget the conversation we had overheard few minutes ago.

As the table was set, Bill introduced me to his siblings. The identical twins, Fred and George who's eyes sparkled with some unspoken mirth, a furiously blushing Ron with a dazed expression on his face and his youngest sibling, Ginny.

The way they all spoke to Bill made it clear that not only did they highly regarded his opinion, but he was very well-liked among his siblings.

Those things I could relate to. I had same kind of relationship with my sister and parents as he seemed to have with his.

Charlie, the second oldest of the Weasley children was in Romania. And the third brother, Percy's name caused a quiet tension in the atmosphere. Clearing his throat, Mr. Weasley said, "Ahem. As I understand now, Bill and Fleur have a news to share with the rest of us?"

Bill sat up straight as all the eyes swung in our direction expectantly. Grinning broadly, Bill caught hold of my hand and entwined our fingers together and rested his other arm on my shoulders as he said, "mum, Fleur and I have decided to get married."

This news was met by utter, shocked silence, broken only by lone clap of Mr. Weasley, which stopped when he took one look at his wife's face.

"Married? To each other?" She asked, looking between both of us as if something didn't quite add up. Before I could stop myself, I uttered, "oui of course to each other!"

Oblivious to my increasing temper, Ginny remarked, "but, haven't you two met each other just a year ago?" Arching my eyebrow, I turned to her and replied, "and? You theenk we should only marry people we know since 'ighschool?"

Ron's dazed expression finally broke as the tension of the room reached him. Fred's cough oddly sounded like a covered laughter and George grinned silly at his dinner plate as I raised my head high and turned away from Ginny.

Mrs. Weasley glared at her children sternly, obviously displeased, before turning to us and saying, "Yes well, it's just that with all the Order business going on... I mean I understand with all this uncertainty people want to rush into things without thinki-"

"Weethout theenking? We love each other. We are not rushing into anytheeng, least of all without theenking. And we certainly are not getting married because of who died and who deedn't!"

Ginny sneezed, which oddly sounded like phl- something, but I didn't pay her any mind. She was only a little girl.

My eyes stayed on Mrs. Weasley, who was red-faced and grasping the thread of words as she said, "I am sure that's true Fleur, my dear. But it's just that we were hoping to know you better before-"

I cut her off again, retorting, "well, eet ees a good theeng then zat Bill and I 'ave decided zat I will be staying 'ere for ze summer, isn't eet? So I can meet 'arry, 'elp with Order's work and..." My gaze swept over the whole Weasley clan before resting on Mrs. Weasley again as I smiled, "...get to know all of you."

The sound of a bird chirping in the distance reached us as hush fell over the table and I leaned into Bill's embrace. Mr. Weasley cleared his throat again and cautiously said, "well... I think congratulations are in order?"


	15. Christmas Gifts

Bill

Christmas

"So you will have to squeeze in with Fred and George, and Ginny will share the room with Fleur," mum finished, looking a little harrassed.

Fleur amicably nodded next to me and I suppressed a smile as I saw Ginny turn her nose up that she thought no one saw.

Even though we had spent the entire summer together, my family didn't like Fleur as much as I had hoped they would. And sadly, the feeling was mutual.

While Fred, George and dad tried their best to deviate any conflict from taking place when we were all together, I knew they couldn't understand our decision to marry any more than the female weasleys did.

What came as an utter surprise to me was that it didn't bother Fleur as much as I had thought it would, to have her future in-laws not like her.

The day everyone had left to shop for new term's books for Hogwarts, leaving us both home alone, I had taken the opportunity to have a word with her about it.

As she had stood peeling potatoes in the kitchen for the dinner that night, I had sneaked up behind her, wrapping my arms about her.

"When was the last time I got a kiss from you?" I whispered, and watched pink blush crawl up her neck tantalizingly.

But instead of melting in my arms like she normally did, she tartly replied, "I believe eet was right before your sister rolled 'er eyes and rudely ahemed at us?"

I sighed, before nuzzling her behind her ear and saying, "I apologise for all that, love." Hearing this, she had turned in my arms and raised one of her eyebrows before saying, "you do not need to apologise. Zey dislike me only because zey love you."

Startled by this, I asked her, "and how did you figure that one?"

To which she smugly replied, "weell, zey love you. And zey theenk you deserve someone better zan me. Eet ees a good theeng though zat we are getting married next summer. Zey 'ave one year to figure eet out."

"Figure what out?" I frowned.

She looked at me like I had asked a stupid question, then answered, "zat there ees no one who weel love you more zan I do, of course." Hearing this, I had laughed, and had found that confidence incredibly enchanting.

As we made our way to a lavishly decorated dining table now, where everyone except Hermione and Tonks were present, my mind drifted to the last few months.

Once we were back from spending the summer at Burrow, there was barely any time for anything except work. Now that prophecy was destroyed and there was no need to stand guard for it, the Order was stationed by Dumbledore at the entrance of Hogwarts, Hogsmeade and even platform 9. Harry was given security from the ministry of magic now that everyone knew the dark lord had returned, but as a result of this, the dark side had started openly recruiting people, which was previously restricted due to secrecy.

All this while, things at Gringotts were getting more rigid. Goblins didn't want to favour any one side as opposed to the other, and so they had doubled the security at the bank, thoroughly checking anyone who was even slightly suspicious.

Fleur was now an active member of the Order. After her shift at Gringotts, she stood guard at Hogsmeade few days a week, and planned our wedding in the remaining time. We had finalized almost everything, except the location of the wedding.

Once the dinner was over, everyone was scattered around the living room, listening to a Christmas broadcast of Celestina Warbeck on the wireless set. She was mum's favourite singer, and so no one complained about her dull lyrics. No one except Fleur, of course.

"Weel zis ever end?" She complained, as Celestina belted out another dull song. She was perched on the arm on my chair, and I smiled looking up at her, my hand rubbing soothingly on her waist that held her in place.

She prettily frowned down at me and asked, "we need to decide where we weel 'ave ze wedding. And we can't do zat weeth all zis noise!" Her voice raised with every word, as did the voice from the wireless set that mum kept pointing her wand at, irritably raising it's volume.

Fred, George and Ginny were playing a game of exploding snaps while dad was dozed off on the chair next to the fire. Ron, who was sitting a few feet away from us, kept glancing at us, and I didn't mind, aware of his crush on Fleur, something that he recieved lots of grief over from Fred and George. Remus who looked even more thinner than usual, sat staring deep into the fire. And Harry sat between them both, waiting for the broadcast to be over.

As the last song came to an end, Fleur's voice rang out loudly through the room. "Ees eet over? Thank goodness, what an 'orrible —"

"Shall we have a nightcap, then?" asked dad, leaping to his feet. "Who wants eggnog?"

But shortly after that when Fleur decided to imitate Celestina Warbeck's "A Cauldron Full Of Hot, Strong Love" we knew the night was officially over and everyone decided to call it a night.

Fleur

Christmas mornings seemed to be an important tradition on Weasley family, as we woke up early next morning, to find a pile of presents at the base of our bed.

Ginny was already in her scarlet jumper with a 'W' embroidered in bold, gold letter as she opened another one of her presents. I sat next to mine and Ginny wished me Merry Christmas politely, which I returned.

"Zat is a nice jumper, Ginny," I commented, gathering my pile of gifts in a neat line.

"Oh thank you, Fleur. It's a Christmas tradition that mum follows every year, you see. Everyone in the family gets one made by her on Christmas," she replied, her gaze vaguely sweeping over my gifts, silently pointing out that I didn't recieve the Weasley-family-Christmas-jumper.

While we were pleasant to each other, I knew Ginny didn't like me any more than her mother did. This, however, didn't bother me because they did this out of love for Bill. That was something that I couldn't bring myself to resent to, even if I didn't much care for their attitude.

I ignored her and picked the first gift from my pile sent by my parents, a set of winter coats for me and Bill in a lovely shade of gray. They were quite pleased of Bill and I getting married, even if they wished we would consider marrying in France. That was a constant point of discussion between me and Bill these days, something that we were hoping to resolve soon.

Next was a box of French chocolates from Gabrielle and I was pleasantly surprised to find boxes of Bertie Bott's every flavour bean and a large box of chocolate frongs from Fred and George. Not finding Bill's gift for me in the pile, I picked his present from my parents and left the room, hunting him through the house.

Not getting a gift from his family was fine to me. But I was angry that Bill had forgotten to get one for me himself, after buying gifts for all his siblings and parents with me before Christmas holidays had started.

Just as I was about to give up on my search of him, strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me to a muscular chest, making me forget all my anger for a moment.

He twisted me around with a gentle flick of his arm, and gazed passionately into my eyes before whispering, "Happy Christmas, love." His lips descended on mine, and I forgot we were in the corridor of their living room, where anyone can walk in on us at any moment.

I wrapped myself around him, kissing him back with as much enthusiasm as he did, my fingers going into his long, silky hairs that were out of their usual ponytail. It was only when the present I carried in my hands slipped from my grip and fell on the ground, did I pull back, eying him reproachfully.

"You theenk kissing me weel make me forget you didn't get me a gift?" He chuckled before turning serious and replying, "I was actually hoping to make you forget that you didn't get one from my parents."

Snorting I replied, "I don't mind zat. We are celebrating Christmas with zem. What does eet matter eef I don't get a family jumper?"

At the mention of jumper, his eyes turned even more troubled and he started, "Love, I'm sor-"

Tutting, I cut him off, before softening my voice and explaining, "I 'ave rest of my life to be a part of Weasley family traditions, Amour. Especially when I weel officially be a Weasley, next time zis year. I am more 'urt zat you didn't get a gift for me!"

Finally, a relieved smile spread across his face, even as his eyes sparkled with mischief. His gaze dropped to my throat and he slyly said, "I don't know what you're talking about, love."

Following his gaze, I saw a delicate gold chain was around my neck, a small shell pendant hanging off it. Bill flicked a finger at it lightly, and it parted slightly to give a glimpse of shiny, white pearl nestled delicately inside it.

My gaze swung to his, realizing he had slipped it around my neck when he was kissing me senseless.

Smiling lightly, he whispered, "it really is only a matter of time before the rest of my family will realize that just like this necklace, you are as precious and beautiful from inside as you are from out, love. Even more so, if you ask me."

And I decided I didn't care how much time it took for them to like me, as long as I got to spend all that time with Bill.


	16. Mortal Peril

Bill

The quiet stillness of the castle was unnerving, to say the least. I couldn't help the unease crawling over my skin like a dozen spiders, as I paced the sixth floor corridor, keeping a vigilant eye around me.

I knew Remus and Tonks were stationed somewhere around the castle. There was also an auror standing guard at the entrance and the teachers were spread randomly throughout the school.

That was the routine protection detail Dumbledore had assigned to us all this year, whenever he left the castle.

But tonight felt different somehow. My insides were unsettled, even before I had left for tonight's guard duty. That was why I had asked Fleur to spend the night at the Burrow.

The thought of her alone in our Diagon alley apartment made me nervous, possibly because of all the recent disappearances happening there.

Usually, she'd have waved my concerns away saying she can take care of herself. But she must've felt the disquiet turning my insides and my need to have peace of mind, so she had easily agreed, leaving home with me before disapparating for the Burrow.

Just as I made to go and check up another floor, the silence of the castle was broken by loud footsteps echoing down the corridor, getting louder as someone drew near. I lifted my wand, lighting it's tip up and a moment later saw Hermione running up to me, red-faced and breathless.

Seeing fear on her face, I rushed to her as she struggled to say, "Bill! Prof-professor Snape s-sent me. There's something wrong- at the-the seventh floor. Ron, Neville and- and Ginny are there!"

She was turning back before her sentence was fully out of her mouth, and on impulse I ran alongside, her words registering in my mind a minute too late. Ron, Ginny and Neville? What, in the Merlin's name, were they doing out here at this time of night?

Before I could raise this question though, we were already up the seventh floor corridor, running up towards the Room of Requirements entrance I was well familiar with.

I rushed to the concealed entrance, blocking it before turning around and putting my back to it, as I searched for others.

The second I saw a flicker of long, red hairs hunched behind a suit of armour close by, utter darkness swept around us. It was as if someone had switched off the lights in a window-less room, plunging everything in utter blackness.

I heard the door that previously wasn't there behind me creak and instantly knew the door to Room of Requirements was opening up.

On instinct, I pushed Hermione away, who stood next to me, tightening my grip on my wand and turning around.

All of this didn't take more than a split second, but it was enough for whatever came out of the room to run smash into me, tackling me to what felt like the other side of the corridor from impact.

My back hit the wall, and one huge hand wrapped itself around my throat, nearly cutting off my breathing, while the other held my wand arm away, against the wall, preventing me from casting any spell.

All my combat training with Mad-Eye kicked in and I threw my leg out, kicking a thick shin, hard. Whoever it was probably wasn't expecting me to fight back, because I heard a surprised growl - growl? - before something like a boulder hit me in the stomach, making me double over.

Still unwilling to give up, I raised my wand, blindly pointing it in front of me, but a kick at my ankle made me lose my balance and crash to the floor.

I faintly heard my wand clatter somewhere close by, before a huge body climbed up on me, and what felt like 4-5 knives, slicing my face, from forehead to throat. I screamed in pain and rage, trying to push the body off me, but whatever it was, didn't budge.

Instead, I felt knife sharp teeth penetrate the skin on my neck, throat and face, the monster ravaging where ever it could find the skin.

I felt my shirt getting wet with my own blood and the darkness around me was fading into a thick blanket of oblivion, where no sound or pain could reach me.

I selfishly welcomed it. Anything can feel better than this. Anything to get away from the unbearable pain searing through my body.

Just as I completely gave into the blackness, a rough voice registered in my conscious, "Enough Greyback. The passage is clear. Its time."

Fleur

The distant rumbling of the thunder sent a shiver through me as I walked into the kitchen of the Burrow.

It was very late to be awake, much less walking around a near dark house, but I couldn't sleep. There was some unnamed emotion curling in the pit of my stomach, an overwhelming feeling of wrongness settling over me, and no matter what I did it wouldn't go away.

I briefly wondered if I was sick, and so I had ventured out of Bill's childhood room that I was staying the night in, to make some tea.

Just as I stepped into the dark kitchen of the Burrow, a loud scraping noise startled me and I whipped my wand out, pointing it at the source of the noise, only to find myself at the end of Molly Weasley's wand.

After freezing for a moment, we exhaled together and lowered our wands. She gave me an irritable look before asking, "Good gracious. What are you doing out at this time?"

Drawing myself up, I answered, "I could ask you ze same. Besides, I only wanted to make myself some tea."

Moving to the hearth, I flicked my wand and a kettle full of water hung itself from the hook. Another flick started the fire, and I took a seat at the table, waiting for the water to boil.

Molly looked indecisive for a moment, before coming to sit in the chair opposite to me, flicking her own wand and replacing my kettle with a larger one, and summoning tea bags and sugar from a cupboard to float and sit between us on the table.

I didn't comment as we sat in silence, my eyes on her and hers on the weird clock she had made a habit of carrying around with her.

After a moment, she sighed and turned the face of the clock towards me, silently allowing me to gaze at it for the first time.

Curiously, I took in the nine golden hands, one for every member of the family. In place of hours there were a series of possible locations, like, "home", "school", "work", "travelling", "lost", "hospital", "prison", and "mortal peril".

At the moment, all the nine hands were pointing at mortal peril. "It's been like that for more than a year now," she confessed on a sigh, her worried eyes meeting mine for a moment before dropping to the clock again.

Maybe it was my own unsettled feelings, or my memory of Bill's eyes from this evening that had looked desperately at me when he had asked me to spend the night here or simply empathy for the woman in front of me. Whatever the reason may be, it made me cover her hand that was holding the clock with mine in a silent reassurance.

We sat quietly for a few moments, both lost in our own world of worries, holding hands. Silently lending support to each other.

The moment was broken by the sound of kettle signaling that the water was ready. I summoned the kettle and cups to the table, and Molly's wand made a short work of tea bags, serving two steaming cups before us. We shared a small smile, having done something together for the first time without bickering.

"You two really would make a formidable team, you know," spoke a voice making us both jump, followed by Molly reproachfully exclaiming, "Goodness Arthur! Am I to be killed of a heart failure tonight?"

Winking mischievously at me, Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but whatever he was going to say was drowned by our gasps and screams as a silvery, glowing light entered the kitchen from the closed window, casting an eerie glow around.

As we watched, the light transformed into a glowing, pearly cat and a vaguely familiar, urgent voice emitted from it. My whole world stood still as we heard the patronus say, "The Death-Eaters attacked Hogwarts. Bill is injured by Greyback. Hurry."


	17. Cursed Scars

Fleur

The last time I was being led up to the hospital wing of Hogwarts, it was right after the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Injured and stunned, I was brought here barely conscious and shaken with fear and grief over Cedric's death.

Since then I had developed an unreasonable wariness towards this part of the castle. Even while standing guard, I usually avoided this place.

But tonight, as I was led up the grand staircase along with Weasley parents, my wariness had turned to an all-out panic.

My insides twisted and shrivelled at the thought of Bill - my Bill - lying on one of those beds.

Ever since we had apparated in the Hogsmeade and trudged the whole way up to the school, I had kept my eyes ahead and my face as impassive as I could, even with terror twisting my insides.

As we neared the doors to the hospital wing, we could hear faint murmurs of people talking inside. An achingly haunting voice was lamenting somewhere unseen, somehow echoing and soothing my innermost fears together.

It seems Molly's patience had ran out just like mine, because just as we reached the hospital wing doors, she pushed open the doors with all the force she could muster, before striding in with Arthur right beside her and me right at her heels.

The middle-aged professor, McGonagall I believe, walked upto us as we neared the far end of the room, where a small crowd was gathered, but Molly walked right past her, and straight to the bed.

"Bill," she whispered before letting out an anguished, "Oh, Bill!" She threw herself at him, sobbing and kissing his forehead.

All this while, I found myself frozen a few feet away from the bed, taking in every inch of him. His face was barely recognisable with all the slashes mark running from head to right down to his throat and neck.

His skin was ripped off from several places, as of someone had tried to peel off the very skin off his bones. The marks were angry, red and bloody with some traces of green liquid that Molly now sat mopping on his face.

People were talking around me, something about werewolf bites and complications. But I couldn't focus on any of it.

All I could see was his bloodied face, feeling as if the very skin was melting away from my bones. As if those slashes ripping through my body that marked his.

Before the pain could choke me though, some words flitted through my brain, registering and snapping me out of my daze.

Molly was talking as she dabbed the green ointment on Bill's face. "Of course, it doesn't matter how he looks. . . ."

What an odd thing to say, I thought, frowning slightly, her words slowly becoming the only things I could here.

"It's not r-really important . . . but he was a very handsome little b-boy . . . always very handsome . . . and he was g-going to be married!" she sobbed, and that was all it took.

My insides fired up like they had never before. How could she think that a few werewolf bites could ever make Bill stop loving me?

Before I could even think it through, I demanded, "And what do you mean by zat? What do you mean," 'e was going to be married?'"

Molly looked startled as she looked up at me, "Well - only that -"

"You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore? You theenk, because of these bites, he will not love me?" I knew I was getting loud, but I couldn't help it.

She started again attempting to answer,"No, that's not what I -"

"Because 'e will!" I cut her off, drawing myself up and throwing my hair back.

"It would take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill loving me!" I informed her, my insides burning with confusion. How did she even think that this would change Bill the way he felt about me?

"Well, yes, I'm sure," she started again, stuttering around to explain, "but I thought perhaps - given how - how he -"

And it was then that it registered. Finally, I understood what she thought. What she meant. She thought that lowly of me? Was she truly unable to see how true my feelings for Bill were?

"You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per'aps, you hoped?" my insides flaming up, ready to spit fire.

Narrowing my eyes, I stepped ahead until I was nearly towering over her as I fumed, "What do I care how he looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk!"

My gaze swept over his painfully mangled face and I continued, "All these scars show is zat my husband is brave! And I shall do zat!" In the same fit of rage, I snatched the ointment out of her hands, and pushed her aside to make room for me to sit beside him.

Mopping up the the strong smelling ointment on his scars, I ignored everything and everyone around us, my eyes transfixed only on Bill, who was right now in excruciating pain.

Moments passed as the silence stretched, no one even breathing around us, it seemed.

It was broken however by Molly's clear voice saying, "Our Great-Auntie Muriel has a very beautiful tiara - goblin-made - which I am sure I could persuade her to lend you for the wedding. She is very fond of Bill, you know, and it would look lovely with your hair."

After avoiding it for the whole past year, she now wanted to discuss the wedding! I refrained from rolling my eyes.

The angry part of me wanted to continue ignoring her. But another part, the one that had acknowledged her dislike for me had stemmed from her love for Bill, realised this was the moment she knew my feelings for him were real. That they ran deeper than skin.

This was the moment she finally found me acceptable for her son. Holding on to my last thread of control over my emotions, I stiffly replied, "Thank you. I am sure zat will be lovely."

And then as if that thread too broke, huge sobs wracked through me, and I wrapped my arms around Molly, holding onto her as I let out each second of the fear I had experienced tonight. I felt her arms wrap tightly around me, and she too cried openly, with her chin resting on my head.

Neither of us cared as big, fat tears slipped off my eyes and ran into her dress, her hand soothingly patting my back, letting me remove all the pent-up fear, as she addressed Remus Lupin and Tonks over my shoulder.

Had it been another time, I'd have put my two cents in about Lupin's ridiculous stand against being with Tonks. But right now, I could barely catch my breath.

As Hagrid entered the room to update us about the school and how ministry had been informed of Dumbledore's passing, the crowd around us slowly started to disperse.

It was nearly sunrise when Arthur pulled Molly out of the hospital wing, squeezing my shoulder gently on his way out. As the doors closed behind them, I caught hold of Bill's hand in both of mine and brought it up to my lips.

Laying my head on his chest, I gazed up at his scars. Cursed scars, Lupin had called them.

But no matter how much time I spent looking at them, I couldn't make myself call them cursed.

They were on Bill, afterall. They made the man that I was in love with. An extended part of him. Just like his brave heart and selfless soul. And how can anything that was a part of him be cursed in any way?

Even though his marks had stopped bleeding some time ago, they still looked just as painful and ghastly as they had when I had first seen them. Just as ghastly when Bill will see them.

It was then that I vowed to spend each day of my life, showing this man how perfect he was to me, cursed scars or not.


	18. Choices

Fleur

Nearly 24 hours after getting attacked, Bill finally showed signs of waking up. After reluctantly leaving his side to have a quick lunch, I had refused to leave my spot from next to him.

Exhausted and low-spirited, I idly ran my fingers through his hairs. Even though generally visitors were not allowed to stay the night in the hospital wing, a small exception was made by Madam Pomfrey to let atleast one person of the family stay beside him that wasn't a Hogwarts student.

According to her, Bill seemed physically fine now, even if he'd always have the scars on his face. However, we didn't quite know how the contamination from the bites would affect his behavior.

She thought it might do him good morally to have someone beside him whenever he woke up, and so I, Arthur and Molly took turns staying next to his bed, while his siblings, Harry and Hermione visited him twice a day.

Fred, George and the Weasley parents had found beds in Hogsmeade with extreme difficulty as it was getting completely booked by wizards coming in from all parts of the world, to pay their respect to Dumbledore.

As I sat next to Bill, mindlessly contemplating what would happen now that Dumbledore was gone, my fingers rested on his forehead and I felt him frown.

Immediately looking down, I saw his eyes were screwed tightly shut, and he grimaced as if something was causing him pain. "Bill? Can you 'ear me, amour?" I asked him, cupping his face.

Jumping up, I ran to the nurse station to see Madam Pomfrey arranging potions in a small cupboard.

"Madam Pomfrey! 'e is waking up!" I informed her, and together we rushed back to Bill's bed to see him gazing around him in confusion.

When his eyes landed on me, he bolted upright and asked, "Fleur? What are you doing here? What am I doing here? What happened?"

Reaching him, I threw my arms around him and felt my eyes well up.

"Now now, Ms. Delacour. Everything is alright. Let's do a thorough check of Mr. Weasley here just so we are sure he is fine, yes?"

Reluctantly, I moved away from him, even as he asked, "what in the god's name happened? Where are Ginny and Ron and Hermione? Is everyone alright?"

Madam Pomfrey started fussing over him, checking his eyes, and touching the sides of his face, as she replied to him, "You'll get all your answers, my dear. Just be patient for a few moments. Now, does this hurt? Something feel funny or different?"

After about 20 minutes of ministrations, she declared that he seemed to be fine, but she still wanted to keep him here for a few more days, just to be sure. All this while, Bill kept his eyes on me, frowning as he tried to remember.

After a few more instructions, she left us alone and I sat on the bed beside him, taking hold of his hands in mine.

Removing my wand, I murmured, "expecto patronus!" A pearly, translucent lioness erupted from it, stretching gracefully.

I spoke my message to it, saying, "Bill ees awake and fine, but weell stay een 'ospital for a few more days. Don't worry and take rest. Come visit een ze morning," before sending it soaring out of the ward.

Turning back, I saw him eying me patiently. Taking a deep breath, I started explaining everything to him.

I told him about the attack on the school, the attack on him, the chaos that ensued, Snape's betrayal, Draco Malfoy's escape, Dumbledore's death; detailing as much as I could by what I had heard since yesterday.

When I was done, his bright blue eyes were filled with unshred tears. His anguished eyes met mine and he whispered, "Dumbledore's really gone? I guess I never imagined what the world would be like without him. I just assumed he'd always be around."

Closing his eyes, he buried his face in the crook of my neck, breathing deeply to collect himself. I stroaked his hairs, letting him mourn for the man that I knew he considers to be his hero.

Pulling back, he asked, "how long was I out? I haven't missed his funeral, have I?" When I shook my head, he nodded absently, saying, "good. That is the least I can do."

After a few moments of silence, he said, "Is there anything else I should know, Fleur?" Taking another deep breathe, I said, "Oui. There eez one more theeng you need to know."

Waving my wand, I summoned a small mirror that was lying on the sidetable of another bed. Looking deep into his eyes, I said, "I told you zat Greyback attacked you, oui? Well, 'e wasn't transformed at ze time so you didn't become a werewolf but..." I stopped and silently handed him the mirror.

He took it from me in confusion, and glanced in it. He gazed at his mangled face for a few, long minutes, before sighing and looking at me.

Before he could say something, the door of the hospital wing burst open and Molly marched in teary eyed followed by Arthur, Fred and George.

I rolled my eyes, not least bit surprised that even after my message, they hadn't waited until the morning to visit, and moved from my spot, making way for the Weasleys to take turn hugging Bill.

Molly took longest time, sobbing uncontrollably on his shoulder, and he rubbed her back soothingly, reassuring her again and again that he was fine.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, taking the scene in and even Arthur looked bright eyed as he gently pulled Molly away.

Deciding to let them have a private moment with each other, I quietly left the ward, walking down to the kitchens and asking a house-elf to pack some sandwiches and steak dinner for Bill.

When I heard laughter pouring from the room, I reentered, immediately catching Bill's intense gaze on me even as he had a small smile on his lips.

They talked about the funeral and Order for some time before Madam Pomfrey came in and announced that her exception will not extend to more than 1 person at a time. And so the Weasleys reluctantly left, promising to return first thing tomorrow.

Once we were alone again, I set his dinner up, and he offhandedly said, "So, mum let me know that she's going to ask Aunt Muriel's tiara for you."

I smiled, and answered, "oui, she ees." I set the tray of food on his lap, and sat next to him, cutting his steak and lifting it to his lips.

Instead of eating though, he said, "you know you don't have to, yes?" Even though I perfectly understood what he meant, I flipped my hair back and looked at him challengingly and said, "what? Cut your steak? Of course I know zat."

Holding my eyes, his finger caressed the ring he had given me and whispered, "when I asked you to marry me, I told you that you have a choice. You always will. And love, you still do."

When I didn't answer him, he continued, "I will understand, of course. Everyone will. Noone will say anyth- " before he could say another word, I pressed my lips to his, making him stop speaking before I lost my temper and got kicked out by Madam Pomfrey.

When I pulled back, he looked a little dazed, and I narrowed my eyes. In a low voice I angrily hissed, "do you really theenk my love for you ees only skin deep, Bill? When your mother assumed this I was only angry. But now, I am 'urt! Eet easily could've been me 'ere instead of you. Eet could've 'appened the night I was standing guard. What zen? You would 'ave left me?"

His eyes widened and he spoke in a shocked tone. "Of course not, love! I love you, no matter how you look! There is no way something like this would-"

"Then 'ow can you theenk I would not want you now?" I demanded. "You theenk you are ze only one who 'doesn't 'ave a choice'? You really theenk zat my love for you will change because of few marks on your face?"

I let the anger leave my body, feeling too exhausted to keep holding onto it.

Cupping his face in my hands I breathed, "I love you for ze man zat you are, Amour. These scars show 'ow brave you are. Eef anytheeng, zey make me proud zat I would get to call you my 'usband. Now, ees there anytheeng else you want to say, or can we 'ave our dinner?"

He gave me a silent, contemplating look for a moment. Then, in a serious tone answered, "Just that I think you were right about one thing all along... We really do overcook our steak here in Britain, because I'd have liked that steak rare, love."

His face broke into a huge smile and I pressed my lips to his, then pulled back to smugly inform him, "I am going to be your wife, Amour. I am always going to be right."


	19. Epilogue

Fleur

The taste of salt hung heavy in the air as we walked - and I felt - our way ahead. Cool drafts of air were a welcome change from the chaos we had just escaped.

After having our beautiful wedding gatecrashed by death eaters, Bill and I had disapparated to the edge of water, where we anxiously waited for some news on the rest of our family's wellbeing.

It was after recieving Arthur's patronus, stating they were all safe, that Bill had conjured up a blindfold and informed me of a surprise awaiting me.

Walking uphill for few minutes, I felt him stop and his hand that was entwined with mine reached up to my shoulders as he stood behind me.

"You ready, love?" He asked with unmasked excitement in his voice and I teasingly replied, "aren't I always?"

Warm breath tickled my ear and neck as he bent down and playfully warned, "behave... Now, open your eyes."

He removed the blindfold took in an achingly beautiful cottage standing on the cliff of the Lavender sea.

The moonlight shone over the outer walls and the roof of the cottage that were embedded with beautiful seashells and white washed.

The sounds of crashing waves, along with calming, salty air and the view of the cliff where all I could see was sky touching the water, made me want to pinch myself and make sure if it was a dream.

As I took all this in, Bill watched me, his gaze reverently on my face and said, "welcome home, love."

Tears of joy filled my eyes and I jumped up in his arms, kissing the side of his face. Feeling the uneven skin beneath my lips stretch, I smiled huge m and looked up at him.

He chuckled and let me slide down his body, holding me close to him by my waist and saying, "so I assume you like it?"

"Like eet? I love eet, amour! Eet ees perfect! Oh Bill.. eet's so beautiful, " I happily sighed then yelped when he lifted me, bridal style and carried me up and through the threshold, entering our home.

Once inside, he flicked his wand, lighting the candles up as he went and I stared at the house in awe. The inside was as beautiful as the outside, with shells decorating every wall artistically.

So immersed I was in taking in everything that I didn't hear him come back until my eyes fell upon him and saw him standing in a doorway motionless, gazing at me in a way that made my heart race.

Prowling over to me, his eyes never wavered from mine, as he caught hold of my waist and pulled me to him. The candles flickered, casting shadows on his scars, making him look even more strikingly handsome and mysterious.

The kiss he gave me was different than all the other kisses we had shared so far. It felt like he was imprinting himself into the very soul of mine.

Picking me up again, he carried me to the bedroom, where not a single candle was alight. Moonlight filled the space, making everything in sight bathe in its enchanting glow.

Setting me down at the foot of the bed, he gently pulled Aunt Muriel's tiara from my hairs and set it on a side table, saying, "let's get this out of the harm's way, shall we?"

"What 'arm?" I asked breathlessly.

He gave me a wicked smile and said, "let me show you," before leaning over me.

2 years later

Bill

The smell of baking reached me before I could walk inside the house, instantly letting me know that mum was here.

Once inside, I made my way to the kitchen, and saw her standing by the hearth, adjusting the fire with her wand.

She looked thinner, her shoulders tired and slumped. She still hadn't recovered from the aftermath of the war. None of us had, but mum had taken it hardest.

Hearing me enter, she turned and I was surprised to see her face shining with happiness as she exclaimed, "You're home, Bill dear!"

She hadn't smiled like that since the war, and my heart lifted at the sight of it.

I went and hugged her, kissing her forehead and she put her palms on my cheeks fondly, like she used to do when I was younger.

Taking a seat by the table, I said, "This is a pleasant surprise, mum. I thought you and dad were going to stay in Romania a few more weeks this time round?"

Turning back to the hearth, she replied, "Oh, we came back early. Got an owl from Fleur while we were there though."

"Oh?" I asked curiously, wondering what could she have told my parents that made them cut their vacation short.

"Yeah.. she wanted us to get something special from there. And we just couldn't..." Mum trailed and her eyes filled with tears.

I bolted up from the table, and hugged her, my heart breaking at her suppressed sob. Ever since the war, crying was all mum had done.

And as much as each of us were hurting as well, we tried our best to console her through this time.

I soothingly ran my hand on her back, but she pulled back, and to my surprise, smiled up at me even through the tears.

"Don't you want to know what Fleur wanted us to bring back from Romania?" She asked, sniffing and wiping her tears.

I couldn't think why it would be so important for me to know that, but just to humor her, I said, "Um.. yeah, sure. What was it?"

Smiling, she patted my cheeks again and said, "go and see for yourself, dear."

And when I failed to move immediately, she shoved my shoulders, turning me towards my bedroom.

"Go, go go and have a look! And don't worry about me dear, I'll be letting myself out." She continued, and for a woman almost half my height, she was surprisingly successful in pushing me about.

Beyond bemused now, I throw one last glance at my mother, only to see her smiling and dabbing her eyes, and entered the room I shared with my wife.

Closing the door behind me, I looked around, spotting Fleur standing by the window that overlooked the cliff.

At the sound of door shutting, she looked over her shoulder, her usually expressive face vacant of any emotions.

Eying her, I said, "so, mum is outside. Behaving rather odd... There's obviously something going on here. Want to let me in on the secret as well, love?"

Giving me a faint smile, she fully turned around to face me, and as I watched, her eyes filled up with tears as well.

Alarmed, I rushed to her and hugged her close. Cupping her face, I worriedly asked, "what is happening? Why is everyone crying today?"

It was then, that she glanced down at her hands that were holding something between us. I followed her gaze down, and froze.

For in her palms, she held a tiny, miniature sized dragon hide boots, very similar to the ones I wore.

Glancing up at her, I saw my beautiful wife's face blur owing to the tears that filled my eyes, even as a huge smile spread on my lips.

"We are going be parents, love?" I asked, just so I could hear it.

"Yes! Yes we are, amour! Oh, Bill!" She threw her arms around me, and I lifted her up, twirling her a bit and she let out a happy squeal.

Carefully setting her down, I asked, "that's why mum and dad came home early?"

Beaming at me, she replied, "Yes. I wrote to zem as soon as I found out. I thought who better to share zis news weeth? Mum could use a reason to smile these days, no?"

She shrugged as if it was no big deal. But it was. She chose to share this news with mum before anyone else, even me. And here I foolishly though, I couldn't love her anymore than I already did.

Smiling huge, I kissed her and buried my face in her hair, feeling happier than I have felt in a long time.

And along with that happiness came a sense of peace. It was in the realisation that yes, the past had left us all scarred.

But if the present looked like this, I decided that the future was bound to be beautiful.


End file.
